The Children of a King
by dominicgrim
Summary: Alistair tries to help his son recover from a tragedy, with a little help. Rated teen for language and possible situations later. I don't own Dragon Age. Alistair plus oc. Surana plus Leliana
1. Help

**A/N: Had this one in my head for a while now, if you wish it to continue shoot me a review. Hope you like it.**

 **The Children of a King**

 **Chapter 1: Help**

 _There is nothing more we can do, Your Majesty. The boy shall either recover or he will not."_

It was with those words that the healers had left the palace two years ago. King Alistair Theirin, Hero of the Blight, First of his Name, and many more titles than he liked to think about, made his way down the corridors of the palace, back towards the royal apartments.

The king sighed.

He had to try something, he had promised Allegra that much. For months they had watched as their son had slowly become a stranger.

Tonight, Alistair had finally decided to try something new, try it, and hope for the best.

As he made his way down the hall, he found himself drawn to the noises coming in through a small window; he glanced outside to see a small company of Inquisition troops drilling down in the courtyard.

The sight made him feel a little better.

There had been many on the royal court who had not wanted Inquisition troops stationed in Denerim, much less the palace. Foreign soldiers had no place here in the capital, they had said. The one problem with that was that every man and woman that the Inquisition had sent here had all been Ferelden born. His old friend Leliana had understood the lords' fears and had planned accordingly.

Plus, he thought, if it was not for the Inquisition my son would have died at the hands of those Venatori bastards that had snuck into the palace, over a year ago. If he did not feel indebted to the Inquisition for that, he would not have been much of a man, much less a king.

They had tried, and they had saved Anthony's life, what had happened during the attack, and since, that wasn't their fault, it wasn't anyone's fault, except for the Venatori, and they were all dead.

The Inquisition had given Anthony a chance, now Alistair had to make sure that his son made the best of it.

He watched them for a few moments before heading on. He noticed how small the garrison had grown in the last year, once there had been enough Inquisition troops to fill the courtyard, now they barely filled one corner.

Their time is ending, he had been hearing enough chatter from the lords and merchants to know that. There was talk of calling a grand meeting, a conclave to discuss the future of the Inquisition. The Venatori threat was over, and with the breach sealed, most nobles wished the Inquisition to either give up some of their power or disband entirely.

In the end, that would be a decision left to the Inquisitor. Alistair had faith in the man, Leliana spoke highly of him, and despite the growing coldness his old companion had shown, he still trusted her counsel.

Whatever became of the Inquisition, he would be grateful, they had protected his family, his children.

He would **never** forget that.

Alistair continued on his way, his thoughts returning once again to the task before him. On the surface it should not have been hard. In practice well…

He frowned.

In practice he would have felt more comfortable fighting another Archdemon. Monster and demons, he could deal with that.

Teenagers, that was another threat entirely.

The thought almost made him chuckle.

When had it happened, he thought to himself, when had his little ones suddenly turned into teenagers? It had seemed like only yesterday that he had held them in his arms as the healers had first pulled them from their mother, and only this morning that they were toddlers following him around trying to get his attention.

How time had flown, he thought…

How quickly the end was coming.

About three years ago, he had pulled his old friend Alim Surana aside. The elven mage had remained one of his most loyal counsellors, despite his failing emotional state.

The sight had saddened Alistair, every year Alim was growing more and more erratic, while Alistair remained…unchanged.

Why?

The first thing that they had discussed was the children. As a warden, Alistair should have had no easy time siring heirs, yet his marriage to Allegra of Nevarra had proved more than bountiful. His queen had given him five healthy children.

It was something that Alistair did not understand.

How was it possible?

He was still tainted was he not?

Alim had giggled that half-mad giggle that worried so many at court.

He had given his old companion a mad cap grin.

"I have a few theories about that, Allie" the elven mage had admitted, "You might be able to help when the time comes. Help the wardens with the taint, or so the whispers lead me to believe. Rumors Allie, so many tales to be told, whispers, wonders, rumors, and trysts in dark places."

The elf giggled again.

"It is all in the blood Alistair, the blood, the blood, the blood. Theirin blood will tell, it will tell, Theirin blood mixed with…something else."

"Something else, what else, Lim?" the king had asked.

Alim's elven ears had twitched.

"Rumors of blood, blood tainted, so tainted that it could not be tainted again, blood so dark it turned red again, and again, and again, and again, It…the blood…it…it…hmmm."

The elf had blinked then, his expression turned confused.

He looked back on his friend.

"What was I saying, Allie?"

That had been the last time they had spoken. Alim had left the capital, and had not returned since.

Alistair worried about his old friend, his warden brother.

He was not well, and probably would not be getting any better.

I can do nothing for Alim, he thought, perhaps I can still do something for Anthony.

Less than a year after they had married, Allegra Theirin had given him son. Their crown prince, and heir, their little Duncan, the realm had rejoiced when he had been born. His brother Cailan had never been able to accomplish that, despite being married for five years, he and Anora had never been blessed with a child. A few months later, Allegra had gotten pregnant again, this time with Anthony, a spare to go with the heir, and again the realm had rejoiced. Three more children would follow, two girls and another boy, but it was Duncan and Anthony that the kingdom had dotted on.

Duncan was a brave young man, handsome, charming, and smart, even as a boy he had been so eager to know everything. He attended Alistair at meetings of the council and the court. When he was old enough he had started training with the master at arms. He wanted to be a warrior king that Ferelden could be proud of; he wanted to be like his father.

Prince Duncan the daring the people started calling him.

Anthony was…well he was Anthony.

He was far more slender than his brother, still athletic, but not so quick to dive in without checking the water first. He favored his mother more than Alistair, in his features at least. Andy was more thoughtful than Dunk, yet put a sword in his hand, and he was the equal of his brother, perhaps even better. Duncan was all fire, Andy was equal parts fire and ice, their master of arms had said so. Prince Anthony had the potential to be one of the finest blades in Ferelden. Inspired by that praise, the boy had studied almost daily with the sword master, becoming best friends with the man's son Kyle. The two had become almost brothers themselves. Then…then…

Alistair frowned.

Then the Venatori had come. There lord and god had died years earlier, but they had continued to fight on. They had been hunted to near extinction by the Inquisition, Leliana had assured all that it was only a matter of time until the Venatori faded into memory, but if they were going to fall, they intended to fall spectacularly, taking as many with them as they could. They had tried to harm the royal family.

Alistair remembered running down the hall, alarm bells ringing in his ears, sword in hand, royal guard and Inquisition soldiers moving at his side. They had arrived to find a room splattered with blood. Anthony on his knees, the boy's eyes were wild, as he murmured under his breath. He just sat there, staring at his hands, hands coated in wet crimson.

That had been almost two years ago. So many healers had come and went during that time. They had tried to keep what had happened quiet, but no one could stop the servants from talking.

 _Four dead and all by the prince's hand._

 _The mages had driven the boy mad_

 _He killed his best friend and laughed while doing it._

 _The boy was mad now._

 _How sad for the king and queen._

 _Prince Anthony the mad._

 _The Broken Prince._

 _Anthony the Unlucky._

He had only just turned twelve, yet overnight the boy had turned into an old man, broken and haggard.

The king and queen had been unable to help him, and the rumors continued to spread.

Alistair had heard those rumors, and had done all he could to stop them. What had happened when Anthony had been confronted by the Venatori had been a tragedy.

It had not been his fault, no matter how badly he felt about it.

After that, their son had drifted away, slowly. He wore only black, and would stay in his room for days, mourning the deaths of Kyle and the others. He grew even slimmer, and feared to even look at a sword again.

Every year the prince became more and more distant, and the healers were having no luck in treating him, it was a sickness of the mind, they said, not the body.

The mind was not so easily healed.

Their son had not left the palace in almost two years, the longer he stayed here, the more the queen feared that he would never leave, that one day he would just stop eating give up and die in his room.

Allegra was determined not to let that happen.

She intended to save their son.

Dunk was about to turn fifteen, he had asked Arl Teagan if he and some of his friends could spend a few weeks at the summer estate south of Redcliffe. The estate had only just been returned to his control by the Inquisition who had taken it from an outlaw band early in their war against the Venatori. The small castle had been fully upgraded since, and now, with the Inquisition's power waning; it had fallen back into Teagan's hands. The Arl was willing, but would not say yes without the king and queen's permission.

Last night, as they lay in bed, the two monarchs had discussed it.

"Do you think Dunk is ready?" Alistair had asked his wife.

Allegra sighed, resting her head on her husband's chest.

"Is he ready to be travelling on his own? Perhaps," she answered, "He has been as good as gold since that business in the merchant's district."

Alistair frowned.

He had been away during that little fiasco; Allegra had dealt with it, and had disciplined the children appropriately. Dunk and his friends had been quiet since, perhaps they had paid appropriate penance.

Still, he was not sure.

Allegra shifted slightly, resting her chin on his chest.

"He is not a little boy anymore Alistair, we need to give him some space."

The king gave her a sheepish look.

"Can't we just find some mage to stop him from aging, or better yet, turn the clock back; Dunk was always easier to manage when he was little."

The queen laughed lightly.

"I'm afraid that is not an option," she said.

"Damn," he said.

She laughed again.

"All parents worry Alistair," she said, "Yet we are not like most parents. Duncan is not just our son; he is heir to the throne, and nearly a man grown, at least in the eyes of the people. Chancellor Eamon came to me again yesterday…"

Alistair groaned.

Eamon had spent the last two years trying to convince him to betroth his daughter Rowan to Dunk. A good match most would believe, yet Alistair was not sure how his son would react.

Rowan was one of his friends, but that did not mean that he wanted to wed and bed her. It might have been good for the realm, but that did not mean that it was good for his son.

"We should give the children a chance to get out on their own, see what they want," Allegra advised, "Given them a chance to experience life."

Alistair brow furrowed.

"That is what I'm afraid of," he said.

"They will have a chaperone with them of course. Maker knows; Tessio and Felina are not to be trusted on their own.

Tessio and Felina were the twin son and daughter of the Antivan Ambassador, and had been a part of Duncan's circle of friends for almost four years. Dark haired and wild eyed both were the children of Ambassador Rialto.

Little trouble makers is what they were.

"Should we feel sorry of the chaperone?" he asked his wife.

"Probably," she said dryly.

Alistair sighed and leaned back.

"So we say yes," he said.

"We do," his wife said, "with one condition."

Alistair gave her an arched look.

"We tell them that they have to take Anthony along."

The king frowned.

"He won't go," he said, "We both know that he will say no."

"He might not," Allegra said, "if he knew who else was going."

Alistair gave her a curious look.

"Who?" he asked.

The queen gave him a sly smile.

"Let just say, I've noticed something of late, maybe it will help, maybe not, but we have to try something."

The king nodded.

"It is worth a shot I suppose."

The queen sighed and snuggled closer to her husband.

"It couldn't hurt.

IOI

Alistair stood before his second born son's door, his hand paused mid-knock.

Just do it, he thought, tell him that you are allowing Dunk and the others to spend some time away from the capital, and that he should go with them, it is that simple.

The king sighed.

And if he says no, when he says no, remind him that it won't just be Dunk and his friends, remind him that **she** is going.

Alistair frowned.

Why **she** would make any difference, he did not know. As far as he knew Anthony had barely spoken to her, in fact he had barely spoken to anyone.

The boy might have been fourteen, but he acted like his was ancient.

The King sighed again.

They knew each other, which was about it; at least that is what he thought.

 _Why would_ _ **she**_ _make any difference?_

Of course, what choice did he have? Taking a chance was better than sitting back and doing nothing while his son withered away like some flower in a dark corner.

It was like Allegra had said, it could not hurt.

In the end it was all up to Anthony.

Anthony and Alindra Nightingale.

Alindra, daughter of the Alim and Leliana.

Alistair shook his head.

Sweet Andraste guide them.


	2. The Crown Prince

**Chapter 2: The Crown Prince**

 _The world will be yours one day._

If one phrase could describe a life, that is what would be said of Prince Duncan Theirin. He was the son of Alistair, Hero of the Blight, grandson of Maric the Savior, great grandson of Moira the Rebel Queen. When he had been born the realm had rejoiced, the Theirin line would continue. It would not die out, but continue on as it had for centuries. Duncan was the keystone of that believe, and…

…And he was about to turn fifteen.

He had been the first Ferelden Prince born in almost thirty years, and therefore a reason to cheer for the people. His Uncle Cailan had never sired an heir, and most had feared that the royal line would die out in a single generation. Mother and Father had changed all that, producing five children to succeed them when the day came.

It was a terrible burden, and a great privilege. Father had tried to make sure he understood that. Mother had done all she could to prepare him for it. It would not be easy; both of his parents had made that point quite clear. One day the weight of a country would rest on his slowly broadening shoulders.

That day was, _hopefully_ , still **far** in the future, or so Duncan hoped. One day he would be the king his parents wanted him to be. He would be strong and fair, and just, but for now, now…

The boy smiled slightly.

For now, the Prince wanted to have a little fun.

The trip south was just what he needed. It would be great, a chance to get away from the capital and be free for a few weeks. Uncle Teagan had already said that he didn't mind. He had used it himself during his younger days he had admitted. The castle was just isolated enough that one could forget their troubles, and had once been a place for the young members of the royal family to have fun and get away from their duties for a time. Now that the wars were almost over, was it not time for it to be so again?

He had his uncle's blessing, now all he needed was his father's, and the best way to do that was to go through his mother.

She will say yes, he thought, she has to say yes. Next year he would be sixteen, a man in the eyes of the world, he hoped to do a bit of travelling then, see the world before he had to settle down and rule his home. He wanted to see the crypts of Nevarra, the ruins of the Dales in Orlais, walk the docks of Rialto in Antiva…

Okay, he thought, maybe not Antiva, not yet anyway.

His father cautioned him a bit about that last one, King Alistair had had a… _disagreement_ with the crows a few years ago.

 _A crow never forgets son,_ the king had warned him, _remember that._

That trip would be an adventure in itself, but he was not yet old enough to make it on his own, or so common wisdom said, no more how stuffy and sanctimonious it was.

That journey would be fun, however, it was still a year off, right now all he intended to travel south with his friends, spend some time hunting and hawking. Sharing tales and songs around a roaring fire, and with a little luck…

Finally spend a bit of time with his heart's desire, feel her tremble with nervous excitement as he pulled her tight into his arms, hear her giggles and gentle sighs, run his fingers through her long hair, and taste those pink lips so…

"WHOA!"

The prince brought his blade up just in time, the blunted training sword clanged against its fellow as he staggered back. Two more blows followed quickly after, both nearly putting him on his ass.

Dunk shook his head; all thoughts of drinking and kissing were gone. He was in the training yard, blade in hand.

 _The training yard was_ _ **no**_ _place for honeyed daydreams._

 _Good morning_ he thought; _that was certainly a wake-up call._

His opponent paused, blade still at the ready, but no longer pushing the advantage. A silverite helm covered the knight's features, all hidden beneath a visor-less helm. It was a simple thing, the kind of helm that any hedge knight might wear, simple but protective, however its long pointed metal ears crafted in steel left no doubt who his opponent was.

This man was no simple hedge knight; in fact he was something of a local legend.

His teacher remained in a combat stance, even though his voice was as relaxed as if they were discussing things over a pint.

"Are you done daydreaming now, little prince?" the knight asked in a sweet mocking voice.

Duncan chuckled.

The knight's comment was a little condescending, but the prince took no offense, considering who he was facing, the deeds the man had done, he was entitled to be a little snarky with his pupil, and besides...

The _little_ comment **was** amusing. When the two had begun training together, the knight had been at least a good head taller than Duncan, at eleven he **had** been a little prince. Since hitting his growth spurt however, Duncan now stood a good head and shoulders above the knight, shooting up as tall as his father and just now starting to fill out the broad shoulders he had grown into.

In the last three years the two had become more than just teacher and pupil, they were friends, so Dunk was not afraid to sass the little knight back.

"I was merely catching my breath, Ser Adwyn," he said with a cocky grin, which, fortunately for him, was hidden behind his own face plate.

"I would not wish to make things too easy for you."

Thought Dunk could not see his face, he could imagine how the elven knight's large eyes narrowed at his words. When it came to battle, the knight was all business, except when trying to throw his young charge off his game with this jibe or that.

He would not be fooled, Dunk knew, or provoked, by the prince's comment.

Ser Adwyn was too good a knight to be so easily put off his game.

His teacher did not respond with words, but with actions. He flung himself at Dunk, a flurry of blows that once again since the prince back-pedaling. When the flurry ended, Duncan found himself pinned against the stone wall.

Only then did the knight speak.

"I trust that was not too easy for you," he said, "I would not wish you to get bored with my training."

Again the boy chuckled.

Ser Adwyn had made his point.

IOI

Ser Adwyn Elf-blood or Ser Adwyn the Elven-knight as he was sometimes known was something of a local hero in Denerim. He had won his spurs at the tender age of thirteen, a boy standing on the wall helping to hold the darkspawn back when they lay siege to Denerim. Three years later, he had entered a grand melee in a tourney held to honor the heroes of the Blight. Adwyn had defeated many challengers that day, and even though he had not won, he still had impressed the king enough to grant him a knighthood, the first elf since the fall of the Dales to hold that title, according to Ferelden scholars anyway.

Over the next ten years, Ser Adwyn's fame had grown. He had fought bravely during that time, serving Duncan's father well. In the end he was even granted the title of Champion of the Alienages, and a medal for distinguished service.

It was for that reason that Duncan had wanted Ser Adwyn to teach him how to fight. In all things he seemed to be far truer that many of the human knights that served his father, more loyal and more honest. It had taken two requests before the knight had agreed to teach the prince, and even then it had been with certain conditions.

"If I am going to teach him to fight, Your Majesty," Ser Adwyn had said, "I will also teach him what it is he should be fighting for."

The king had agreed, and Duncan had begun his training.

"You are going to work hard, boy. I expect nothing but the best" the knight had said, "The moment I think you are being lazy, or wasting my time, our training will end."

The prince had taken those words to heart. He had not quit or complained. They went on runs together, and would spar for several hours at a time. When he had been hurt, Ser Adwyn had bandaged his wounds. He learned about the sword, the lance, and the dagger, but that was not all. Ser Adwyn had also tried to teach him about the world outside the palace, beyond his books and tutors. He showed him the Alienage, and the poor farmsteads that were still struggling more than ten years after the Blight. The sights he saw often broke Dunk's heart, and made him see what just what ruling would one day mean. He faced these trials and more, and by choosing not to cry or quit, he had learned a great deal about both life and fighting, not to mention the respect of Ser Adwyn Elf blood.

Respect, that was worth its weight in gold.

IOI

When their training ended, he and Adwyn took the time to clean up any messes they had made. They could have asked a servant, but the Elven Knight would not hear of it.

Be willing to do a servant's work when you must, little prince, the elf said.

It will teach you humility, and that is something that every knight needs.

The two returned their training blades, and began removing the armored vests and helmets they had been wearing. Had this been a real fight the elf would have worn his silverite plate, a fine suit of heavy armor earned from many years of battle and victory.

Beneath his helm, Ser Adwyn was considered quite handsome, or so Dunk's sister Cassie had said, as most men of his kind were. Strong avian features, a hawk like nose, with silver gold hair, and eyes so blue they almost looked black.

Duncan himself favored his father, they had similar features, and worn their hair in similar style. Duncan's was more red perhaps, but that was to be expected considering how red his mother's hair was.

Usually the elven knight would give him some pointers on what he should work on before their next encounter. Some knew fighting move to study, or somewhere the prince should go and visit so that he might learn something.

Yet now, the knight was strangely silent, he watched his pupil with an evaluating eye.

It was enough to make the young prince nervous.

"You did well today," the elf finally said, "Not great perhaps, but well enough."

Duncan smiled slightly, as far as Ser Adwyn was concerned that was high praise. However, good was never good enough, and there was always room for improvement.

"Thank you ser," he said.

The elf's ears twitched.

"I understand that you are going to be spending some time away from the capital. It will be good for you to see more of the world, but never forget your training. Danger can appear at any time."

Duncan pursed his lips.

It was not like he would just forget all that he had learned in the last few years, it was not like he ever could. If he ever needed a reminder, all he had to do was look at some of the scars he had gotten while training.

That was reminder enough.

"It's just going to be me and a few friends, plus our guards," he said nonchalantly, "I think we will be fine, ser."

Duncan smiled.

"I've already spoken with Uncle Teagan, everything will be safe and secure."

"Perhaps," the elf said, "Perhaps not, just because the wars are winding down do not think that all danger has passed."

The elf's expression turned serious.

"Never forget what happened to your brother. We all thought the palace was secure back then as well."

Duncan winced.

It was unlikely he would ever forget that either.

The Prince shook his head.

Mother was insisting of they did this, that they bring Anthony along. Though he worried that his brother might spoil the mood, he was willing to try.

Who knew, it might even work, and if it did, that was great.

It would be good to have his little brother back to his old self again.

"Is there anything you want me to work on when we go?" he asked his teacher, "Some new form, some new maneuver."

"Just be aware of your surroundings," the knight advised, "And don't forget your honor while you…revel."

Dunk blushed slightly.

Ser?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"Do…um…you ever forget your honor when you are with Bann Shianni?"

The elven knight's ears rose in surprise, though he should not have been.

Half of Denerim knew that he was often seen leaving the Bann of Alienage's estate in the small hours before the dawn. The two had been lovers for a few years now, yet so far, there had been no word of marriage.

Whether it was the Bann or the Elven knight who was resisting a union, none could say.

Dunk expected a rebuke, yet the knight, perhaps recognizing the innocence of his comment, chose not to give one.

"Love makes you forget sometimes, passion is the enemy of duty, or so I have heard it said."

The elf smiled slightly.

"But passion is a strength as well, having something to fight for, something that you would be willing to die for is not a bad thing."

The elf tilted his head slightly.

"Is there someone that you would fight for little prince?"

Was there someone? Yes, he believed that there was. He was too shy to say Alindra's name however, at least for now.

That would change when he finally spoke his heart to her. When she accepted him as hers, and realized that she was his.

This trip would be the perfect opportunity; he would be able to get her alone.

What came next would be…destiny itself.

He could not control his blush, it was difficult to admit his heart, but he was a knight, or would be when Ser Adwyn thought him ready.

"There is someone," he admitted.

The elf smiled.

"Then treat her well," his teacher advised, "Speak your heart, and let nature take its course, but never forget your honor. Even if you don't get what you want, remember, honor remains."

Duncan nodded, though any thought of failure vanished when he thought of Alindra Nightingale, those eyes, and her beautiful smile.

He would not fail to woo her.

He had desired her since they were children though he had not recognized that until recently.

He wanted her, and he would not fail.

He would **not.**

"I'll remember, ser," he promised.

"Honor remains."


	3. The Broken Prince

**Chapter 3: The Broken Prince**

Alistair shivered as he entered Anthony's room. It was a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.

You could almost feel the sadness in this room, the light seemed weaker somehow, or perhaps that was just a trick of the heavy curtains and tapestries. The gray stone almost seemed to soak up shadows; even the light of candles that burned in the room seemed diffused. In the last year, his son had chosen only dark colored decorations for the room, so even in the brightest hours of the afternoon, the whole place looked and felt like it twilight, like the whole room was in mourning.

The king shook his head.

His poor boy, he thought, his bright little boy.

He would have given anything to free his son from this.

To return the boy to what he once had been.

That was the king's one true desire.

IOI

Once not very long ago, Anthony had been a shining light of the realm, the second born child to him and Allegra. The heir to the kingdom should anything unfortunate befall his father and brother. To the Ferelden people, from the smallest of the small folk, to the highest lord in his castle, the children of Alistair and Allegra Theirin had been a sign of hope. They had been a sign that the kingdom would continue on, beyond the Blight and beyond the troubles that had haunted the last decade of the Dragon Age.

Alistair had been a war hero, Duncan was their daring prince. Anthony was…something quite amazing as well. He had first picked up a training sword at the age of seven, after watching Ser Corlys Kelley, the Master of Arms training young men and women in the courtyard. After that, he and his father would often play at sword fighting with simple sticks during brief moments of family time. Even then, Alistair had noticed an innate talent in the boy; he had seen it before during his own boyhood Templar training. Some initiates took to blades like ducks took to water. Anthony was one of those, and a few years later he would prove it.

Before the Conclave, and the Breach that had been created in its wake. A grand tourney had been held in Denerim to honor the visiting Divine. Of course, visiting might not have been the right word, the violence in Orlais, both from the mage rebellion and the Orlesian civil war had made Justinia's visit more necessary than it would have been normally. Great knights from across the kingdom had assembled, both to show their support for the chantry, and to prove their mettle, mettle that would likely be tested if Justinia decided to call an exalted march to end the chaos.

It was during that tourney that both of Alistair's eldest sons had shown just what they were made of. Sixty four young men under the age of fifteen had competed in a dueling competition. Most of the boys who entered were squires of famed knights, and any one of them would have been considered the favorite. The King had only let his boys enter after Chancellor Eamon insisted that he do so. How would it look if the sons of the king did not compete?

Alistair was understandable nervous, but had said yes. Duncan ended up winning two bouts, defeating opponents who would one day likely take their place among the elite warriors in Ferelden. The king was never more proud, but it was Anthony who truly shined that day.

He matched his brother's two victories, and then added another and another after that. The boy had only just turned nine, and he was defeating boys at least five years his elder. At first it was thought that the squires were going easy on him because he was a prince, but after watching his fourth victory, it was clear that that was simply not the case.

Anthony had not simply been handed those victories, he had won them, each and every one.

"Did you see father?" the boy had squealed with delight after his fourth victory, "Did you see?!"

The king had chuckled, as his wife had embraced the boy.

"I was in the royal box son," Alistair had quipped dryly.

"From there, I can see everything."

Since his own defeat, Duncan had started seconding his brother, another boy might have been jealous, but not Dunk, if anyone was going to claim victory today, it should be someone from House Theirin. The crowd had grown more and more wild with each victory, eagerly cheering on the young prince, and at last Anthony found himself in the finals, his opponent, young Kyle Kelley, son of the Palace's master-of-arms. Their battle was one spoken of even today, an example of what squires should be, and the knights and men they could become. Though Anthony did not emerge victorious, few would doubt that the two boys had put on a show of skill and valor that day. Even in victory, the fourteen year old Kyle had raised the beaten prince up, and raised his hand in a show of respect and chivalry.

The Divine herself had declared that the Maker and holy Andraste had certainly guided the two boys' hands; she blessed them both, one as champion, and one as runner-up.

After that Kyle and Anthony had become fast friends, and the boy's father Ser Corlys began training with them both. He did not deny the young prince's skill, he was good, no doubt about that, but with training, the boy would become _magnificent_. In Ser Kyle's eyes, Anthony had the chance of becoming a warrior without peer. So Anthony had begun his training, and for three years his skill had continued to grow, his talent sharpened by training and counsel. No one doubted that one day Anthony would become the first blade of House Theirin, likely his brother's greatest champion, and a sword of the realm.

Then…the Venatori had come, seeking their last gasp of vengeance.

Kyle Kelley and three others died, and young prince was left bathed in blood.

Everything that Anthony might have been…was lost.

Ser Corlys resigned from his position within the palace, blaming Anthony for the deed. His only son was gone, and he could not forgive his student...

The boy was left broken, drifting deeper into depression and guilt. What had happened was not truly his fault, but his mentor's blame hung over him like the blade of scythe. The young prince threw away his sword, swearing to never wield one again. He awoke screaming almost every night, and not even the potions given him by the castle healers seemed to help.

Anthony became a broken shell of what he had been before, and with each passing year he drifted away more and more. All joy had gone out of him, leaving his family to fear for him, to worry of what they would find one morning, when the guilt became too heavy to bear.

Thus the broken prince drifted down the castle halls, a ghost in all but name. He had not left the castle in almost two years.

Tonight the king would try to convince him that it was time to do so.

IOI

Alistair blinked; he tried to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness, not an easy thing in fading light of the day, with so much black in the prince's room.

"Anthony?" he called out.

"Tony?"

"Son?"

"Here father," came the flat monotone reply.

Alistair's eyes turned towards the window, his second born stood staring out over the palace district, his shirt and leggings as black as night. His dark red hair, though tinged with blonde, looked almost black in fading light, and fell down past his shoulders.

 _He needs a haircut_ , the king thought, it was an odd thought, not really relevant to why he was here, but that was nothing new, as a boy, odd thoughts often came into his head at inopportune times, and back then he was too inclined to blurt them out. Such thoughts had sent him to scrub the pots in the abbey more times than he could count and as he had told Alim all those years ago, that was a lot. He could count pretty high.

Not that that mattered right now, what mattered was Anthony.

What mattered was reaching his son.

The boy did not bother turning around. He seemed to move in slow motion, like even the barest of movements caused him pain.

Alistair glanced around the room. His son rarely permitted servants in here. Water goblets were everywhere more than a few half-full. The prince's bed was a lumpy mess as well, likely the boy had decided not to make it this morning, or he had just woken from another troubled sleep.

The prince slept a lot, and little of it was restful, or so the screams that came from this room suggested.

He took a step towards the boy. Anthony did not like to be touched and grew agitated when even his family tried.

The boy sighed heavily.

"Portia's behind you father," he said, "I think she is going to…"

"DAAADEEE!"

A weight slammed into the king from behind, as slender arms wrapped around his neck, not hard enough to choke him, but definitely hard enough to hold on.

The king smiled and whirled around.

Portia Theirin, his eight year old daughter squealed with delight. It was an old game, between father and daughter, one that they had indulged for years.

The king didn't say it, but he would be sad when his little girl got too big for him to spin her around.

For now, he simply tried to enjoy it.

He managed to get a grip on her leg and pull her around and into his arms. She giggled and grinned widely at him. Portia was the first of his children that had not been born with their mother's hair. The little girl's hair was as blonde as her father, and her impish smile was his no doubt.

"Hello there little miss," he said to the grinning child.

"Hello Daddy," she exclaimed.

The king chuckled.

"Bothering your brother again?" he inquired.

Again Anthony sighed.

"She is no bother father," he said, "She is quiet, and doesn't get underfoot."

The young man finally turned.

"I like her company."

Though he was only fourteen, the boy looked much older than he was. He had grown so tall in the last year. He could have passed for his father at sixteen easily, except for the dark red hair of course, the pale skin, and the sad eyes with bags of dark purple beneath them.

Those eyes, they belonged to the Broken Prince, him and no other.

Looking into those eyes always filled the king with regret, for not the first time, he wondered if there was something he could have done differently, could he have found a way to keep the Venatori out…

 _Could **he** have spared his son this fate?_

He did not give voice to those fears; he instead decided to focus on Portia. She had always had a connection with Anthony, had been known to stay at his side, even before the Venatori had come. She loved her big brother, and he loved her.

He was grateful for her presence.

She might go a long way in convincing his son to join his brother and his friends.

At least, the king hoped so.

The prince gave them both a sad look.

"Is there something you need father," he asked, "I'm very tired."

 _This is not about me,_ Alistair thought, _this is about you son._

It is about getting your life back.

"I just came from your mother," he said, "Dunk's asked her about taking a trip with some of his friends, journeying south for his birthday."

The king smiled.

"He wondered if you might want to join them?"

Anthony blinked; he seemed surprised by the invitation. For the briefest of moments a flicker of light seemed to pass over his eyes, but then just as quickly it was gone, buried beneath the cloud of regret that was choking his son's soul.

Anthony sighed and turned away.

"I…I don't think so, father," he said.

"I…I would not be very good company."

Alistair's smile faltered.

He had figured the boy would say no still that did not mean that he would give up.

He turned to his daughter.

"Do you think that Anthony should go, sweetie?" He asked, "I think he might have fun."

"Fun," the little girl exclaimed. Her eyes lit with merriment. Her voice sang out happily.

"Fun, fun, fun, fun, fun!"

Her brother did not respond, he simply continued to stare out into the fading light of the city.

The sight did not lighten the king's heart.

"You should play Tony?" Portia asked.

"Why don't you want to play?"

The broken prince sighed.

"I can't leave," he said, "What if something happens?'

"What do you think is going to happen?" his father asked.

Anthony shuddered, his hands opened and closed, his anxiety seemed to grow with the very thought of what could happen.

The sight disturbed the king.

His son was no coward; he knew that for sure, he was not afraid of what _might_ happen here. He was likely more afraid that he might do something wrong, something that might get more of the people he cared about killed.

After what happened with Kyle and the others, few could blame him.

Still, he was dying in here, Alistair did not doubt that.

Anthony needed to get out; it might be the only thing that could possibly save him.

If only he was willing to see that.

"Dunk's taking a full company of guards with him," he informed his son, "that should be more than enough to handle any problems."

The prince shuddered again.

"They…they don't want me to go," he said.

"Of course they do, they…"

"No," Anthony said cutting him off, his voice taking on a cold angry edge.

"They don't."

Alistair felt his own temper starting to flare, but did his best to hold it in check, yelling at his son would not help him, nor would it convince him to do what was best.

The patience of a king, a warrior, and someone raised in the chantry had come in very handy over the years.

He realized that he would have to play the card that Allegra had suggested, though he was not sure that it would work.

"I think you should at least reconsider son."

The boy put his arms across his chest.

"I don't think…"

"Please son, this could be just what you need, you…"

"Father," Anthony's voice turned icy, cold and angry.

"I don't want…"

"Alindra's going,' the king said quickly.

Two words, two small little words that should not have done anything, but in this case they did. Anthony turned to face his father, he did not look angry, quite the opposite in fact.

Alistair blinked; once again he saw a flash of what his son had once been in the young boy's eyes. A flicker of…

What was it?

Curiosity?

Interest?

"Ah…Alindra is going?" he asked in a small voice, more like that of a child of three's voice, certainly not the voice of a young man of fourteen.

"Ooh," Portia cooed, "Ah…Lynne…dra!"

Anthony did not respond to his sister's words, yet, he no longer seemed lost. In fact, he seemed to have woken up, he moved quicker than he had since the king had walked in.

He seemed, at least a little bit like his old self.

A little bit.

"Are...are you certain father," he asked. "Is Alindra going?"

Alistair smiled.

That was a good question, he thought, alas, he did not know.

Alindra Nightingale could be as stubborn as her father.

Would she go, he did not know.

Dunk was going to ask her, so she might say yes.

The king found himself hoping the girl did say yes.

She had to go, for Anthony's sake if for nothing else.

Anthony had been the Broken Prince for far too long…

It was time to start putting him back together.

For his sake, if nothing else.

 **A/N: Next chapter, we meet Alindra for the first time, will she go, and if she does which prince will she choose to aid? We shall all see next time.**

 **Until then dear readers.**

 **DG**


	4. Alindra

**Chapter 4: Alindra**

"Do you think the prince will like it?"

Alindra Nightingale, the daughter of Alim and Leliana Surana, looked up from her sketch book as Felina stepped out from behind the changing screen. The Antivan girl gave her four friends a wicked smile as she did a quick spin for them, showing off her new dress from all the right angles.

Alindra frowned slightly.

As far as dresses went, it was certainly… _ **daring.**_

An olive skinned buxom beauty, Felina's new gown was so tight it might have well been painted on her curvy frame, the light blue fabric strained against her generous form. The top was both low cut, off the shoulders, and slit down the front; it barely restrained the Antivan girl's cleavage, which she had seemed to develop at least a year before rest of them. It would not take a boy much imagination to know what the girl looked like topless, which was likely the whole point. The bottom was slit as well, a point the girl made abundantly clear by showing of one long shapely leg.

Alindra shook her head.

Felina was the most… _brazen_ of their circle of friends, and not afraid to show of her sexuality. Though only a few months shy of turning sixteen, the hot blooded Antivan knew both what she wanted and how to get it.

 _Whether that would lead her to a place at Dunk's side or not, remained to be seen._

"What do you think, my friends," Felina said slyly, "Am I not the perfect picture of womanhood?"

"Oh my," Jocelyn Ambrose said, though new to the royal court, she had been one of Alindra's best friends for almost a year, the girl might have been from Wycome in the Free Marches, but that did not mean that she approved of such a dress. Such garments were common place during the summer's day celebration in her home city no doubt, all those young girls out hunting for potential mates.

Such a dress might have been accepted in Wycome, but here…it was on the border of _scandalous_ …

…Which was the whole point, as far as the Antivan girl was concerned.

Felina _**enjoyed**_ attention, positive or not.

Before either she or Rowan could respond, Princess Cassie beat them both to it, not surprising; the youngest of their party was not impressed.

"Have you no shame?" Cassie said with a shake of her head.

"Shame has **no** place in the royal court," the girl responded.

Still the King's thirteen year old daughter remained undaunted. Her face, so much like her mother's was stern, far too stern for a girl of three and ten.

"How about modesty then," she continued, "you think Andraste spent her time parading around in such outfits?"

The Antivan girl laughed.

"If she had, her husband might not have sold her out to Tevinter. She might have been the Maker's bride, but that was no excuse for ignoring her flesh and blood husband. Who knows, she might never have died had she submitted to the temptations of the flesh every now and then, men have needs to you know. I'm sure the Maker would not have minded."

Cassie's frown deepened, her eyes flashed with anger. She was by far the most devote of the royal family…

…and it was never a good idea to insult one of the royal family.

Rowan interrupted before things could go any further.

"It is a lovely dress, Felina," she said quickly," You are sure to turn a few heads."

The Antivan smiled, pleased to have made her point and retreated back behind the screen, eager to try on the next gown she had acquired.

Rowan shook her head, her auburn ponytail swayed with the movement. She glanced over at Alindra and Jocelyn, a sly smile on her face.

To the two of them she mouthed the word "whore."

Princess Cassie snickered, while Alindra and Joss just managed to keep a straight face.

"I heard **that** ," Felina called out from behind the curtain.

Alindra and Jocelyn stifled a giggle, barely.

"I did not say anything," Rowan said, all sweetness and innocence.

"Of course you didn't darling," the Antivan responded, "Which is why the little princess giggled so loudly."

Rowan shot the princess a dirty look.

The girl shrugged and mouthed that she was sorry.

Again Alin had to resist the urge to laugh.

It might not have seemed so, but these four where her best friends, almost like sisters.

There was nowhere else she would rather be.

She had come far in the last nine years…

…very far indeed.

IOI

The Orlesians had a saying, or so Alindra had heard. No one simply ends up at court, it takes time and a great deal of effort, so had it been in the case of Alindra Nightingale, only that effort had come on the part of her parents, not her.

At the tender age of six she had been discovered by the Templars of Kinloch Hold. Though she was no mage herself, her parents had enemies, especially among the Templar order. As a mage, her father had never been trusted by the Templars or the nobles whose plans he had interfered with since the Blight had ended, and with her mother serving as the Left Hand of the Divine, a Divine whose acts to reform the chantry were not popular among the Seekers and Templars, to any such enemies, they might have seen a weakness in such a young girl. Neither of them wished to see their daughter turned into a bargaining chip. Her father had managed to keep the Knight Commander at bay, but the whole matter had made her parents uneasy, very uneasy indeed.

Either one of them might have been able to keep her safe, but given the problems in post-Blight Ferelden, both of them had been far too busy. They had tried to be the best parents they could to her, but both of them realized that their pasts would always haunt and pursue them.

To keep their daughter safe, she needed to be sent away, hidden from those that would do harm simply out of a desire to harm them.

She did not blame them. It had been as hard on them as it had on her. If she stayed at their side, she would have grown up constantly looking over her shoulder, alone; she had a chance to build an actual life.

In the end, they decided to hide their daughter in plain sight, in the royal court of their old friend and travelling companion Alistair Theirin. She was packed off from her home in the tiny mountain village of Haven and sent to live at the palace in Denerim, fostered by the King and his wife Allegra. She had been presented to them years earlier, and given her father's close friendship with both of them. It was a safe bet that the king would take her in.

She still remembered the day she had been first presented to the king. She had walked down the long hall towards the throne while the lords watched from the balconies and their places along the wall. Her Mother had been there too, but she had kept to the shadows, as far as the nobles of Ferelden were concerned Alindra was simply the daughter of some distant noble, someone that the king had decided to do a favor for.

It had been raining hard that day, as hard as the fears of a six year old girl. In the end she stood before the throne and curtseyed like her mother had taught her. She must have been a sight in her furs and humble dress.

"Majesty," she said in a tiny shy voice.

The king had smiled down on her, and rose from the throne. He went to her and scooped her up into his arms. She responded by hugging him tightly, her Uncle Alistair was big, he was a warrior born and would keep her safe.

"It is okay little one," he murmured into her ear.

"You are among friends now."

He carried her up the dais and sat her next to his own children. Duncan was five, Anthony, four and almost five, and Cassie, three. Yet still she had been afraid, Anthony offered her his hand; she took it, grateful to be in the presence of other children with so many strangers around.

"My new ward," the king called out to the court, "May she find happiness in our care."

The royal court mumbled their agreement, still not sure what to make of this little girl from the mountains in the south.

Thus had begun Alindra Nightingale's time in the Ferelden royal court, a time of splendor and great opportunity, the first year she had spent in the royal apartments, a companion for the King's children. When she turned eight she was named King Alistair's royal cup bearer, and tended the king at meetings. Some might have thought such an appointment as odd, but the king was never without his reasons.

Despite being raised in isolation, her mother had done her best to prepare her for a life outside of Haven. By the time she left the village she spoke several languages and could write in two of them. She had been taught both noble custom and manners. Often when foreign lords or merchants met with the king, they tended to fall back on speaking their native tongue when not wishing him to know what they were saying. Alindra had not understood everything that was said, but she repeated all she heard to the king, much to the chagrin of his rude guests.

At the time it had seemed like a fun game, she had been too young to understand how serious the business of ruling was. She was simply happy to help her king, the man she called "Uncle Alistair" in private.

After a while, the king's guests learned not to be so open-mouthed when His Majesty had his little pale skinned cup bearer at his side.

At the very least, it taught them a bit of respect.

IOI

"How long will the Prince be staying at this grand forest villa?" Jocelyn asked.

Rowan shrugged.

"A few weeks, or so I have heard," the girl responded, "Only a select few with be attending, but it should be a celebration of some magnificence."

"I've heard that the grand forest villa is a palace," Felina said from behind the changing screen, "The Inquisitor used the place to house high nobles before they were allowed up to Skyhold, it's all been redesigned for comfort, with enough to supplies to see to anyone's needs."

"Any noble's needs, you mean," Jocelyn added.

"Just so," the Antivan responded.

The words made Alindra pause.

"Any noble's needs."

She was no noble, despite her appearance, gone were her furs and dresses of sack cloth, yet she could not change her blood, no matter how fine the silk she wore.

Her four friends were all high born; it was amazing that they accepted her as one of their own.

Princess Cassie was third in line to the throne, her features and dark red hair so like her mother, the Queen Allegra, all accept for her eyes; she had the king's eyes. She was pretty enough, and likely would have had no trouble finding a noble husband, yet even during her childhood, her heart seemed to be pulling her towards the chantry. The Queen would have preferred otherwise, but the young girl had a stubborn streak. Piety and charity were her concerns, not fine dresses, furs and boys.

Felina was her polar opposite. She lived for court life; in fact she reveled in it. The daughter of the Antivan Ambassador, he had first received his position due to his friendship with the king's old ally Zevran Arainai. Felina's twin, Tessio, had been a longtime companion of the prince, and was expected to be joining them on their journey to the villa down south.

He would no doubt try to keep her from going too overboard, in her pursuit of Prince Duncan's affections.

Rowan was the daughter of Chancellor Eamon, former Arl of Redcliffe, and his wife the Lady Isolde. The girl had been raised at the royal court, and had never been far from the royal family. Her features were that of her mother, though her auburn curls marked her as a member of House Guerein.

It was no secret that the Chancellor and his wife sought for Rowan to be betrothed to Prince Duncan, a matter they had pursued quite often since the girl's birth. Rowan wanted to be queen, she had said so on several occasions in private, but she was not as daring as Felina in her pursuit of the crown. So far the king had made no such decision, perhaps waiting for his son to offer his input, on who he should spend the rest of his life with. It was a generous decision, but it had also set off a fierce competition among the young ladies at court, especially as the prince drew closer and closer to marrying age. Felina and Rowan were not the only contenders vying for a place at Dunk's side, or to fill the prince's marriage bed.

Jocelyn Ambrose was another highborn, though she did not act like it. Her father was The Great Lion of House Ambrose, Lionel the Grand. Blond of hair, blue of eyes, and freckled like the farm girl she was, that was Jocelyn. Though they boasted a knightly history, most of the Ambrose family's wealth was now in cattle and horses. Their family business was livestock that was now tended by Jocelyn's mother and older sisters.

Alindra had gotten to know the family quite well. She had been their "Guest" for almost six months. It had been the result of a moment of youthful indiscretion by the Lord's youngest son, Lionel the Small, though only a squire, the boy was already almost too brazen for his own good. It might have ended in blood, if not for the fact that the Ambroses had treated her like a guest, and Alindra had spoken up for them. When the former Left Hand on the Divine had shown up on their doorstep to reclaim her daughter, she had been all kind words and pleasantries.

They had been lucky that the Lady Leliana had chosen to speak with her child before taking steps to reclaim her. The Nightingale's wroth could be terrible.

It had only been Alindra's words that had saved them from that.

Both Jocelyn and Lionel the Small had accompanied her back to Denerim. Lionel was now her sworn shield, and Jocelyn as her companion.

If Jocelyn caught Prince Duncan's eye, few would say anything negative about the match, any dowry that her father offered would be quite large indeed, not even a king would balk at that. Still Duncan continued to keep his options open, and the race to the queen's throne continued.

Her friends were welcome to it, Alindra thought.

This was one race she wanted no part of.

She had known Duncan since they were children; she cared for him yes, but that caring was that of a sister for a brother, nothing more. Plus she was smart enough to know her place; she was the elf-blooded daughter of a mage grey warden and a bard who had risen to the height of chantry power. Heroes her parents might have been, but that did not make her any more than what she already was.

Such a girl was not the proper consort for a prince, much less a queen.

Though in the last year, she had noticed a change in how she was being treated at court. During a tourney a month ago, no less than three young knights had approached the royal box and asked for her favor in the joust. During a melee, two of those young men had beaten themselves bloody after saluting her. When the festivities were done, she asked if she could speak with the queen alone, she needed her Lady's counsel.

What had happened, she asked, why would they do such a thing?

The queen had given her a gentle smile and led her to the mirror in her room.

"What do you see, Alin?" the queen asked as they stood before it.

The young girl blinked.

"Me," she had said innocently, "The queen of Ferelden standing behind me."

Lady Allegra had laughed.

"Oh child," she had said, "Try to look beyond what you know, try to see yourself as someone else might see you. What a stranger might see at a glance. Now tell me what you see?"

Alindra titled her head, her brow furrowed as she tried to see what the queen was getting at.

"A girl of fourteen, almost fifteen," she said, "Pale skinned, large blue eyes, and shoulder length white hair, hair with a single streak of red…"

"A girl who is not very tall perhaps," the queen added, "But blessed with a charming figure."

Alindra blinked at that.

She…she had not seen that.

What the queen said was true; she had outgrown all of the old dresses she had worn before her adventure in Wycome. At the age of ten she had been considered gawky, coltish perhaps, skinny arms and legs and flat chested. Upon her return, that had changed, the queen had taken her aside and had new clothes made for her, dresses that served to accommodate her new figure.

 _The Maker has made you a woman, and lately he was becoming more and more generous with his gifts._

"You have a woman's body now," the queen reminded her, "You should not be surprised that young men have started to take notice.

Alindra had blushed at that. She had never been…comfortable speaking about boys, not even with Felina and Rowan. Duncan and Anthony had been her play friends, running races and shooting arrows at targets.

They had never looked at her that way; at least, she did not think they did.

"What should I do?" she asked the queen.

"Live your life child," she advised, "Men will desire you, so you must be cautious in their presence, some lordlings do not like to be told no. I'm sure that both your mother and father would want that decision to be yours when the time comes. Eventually you will find someone who makes you happy, who you wish to be with.

"Like you and Uncle Alistair?"

"We were lucky," the queen admitted, "Hopefully the Maker will be as kind to you as he was to us."

"In the meantime, just try to be young and happy."

"Your future will come soon enough.

IOI

Alindra had taken those words to heart. She was still not sure of Duncan would desire her presence on this little adventure he had planned, with so many other noble ladies going, they might feel, slighted at her presence.

If they did, then so be it, she thought, whether Duncan invited her or not, she was determined to follow the Queen's advice.

She would live her life, and come what may.

She would try to have fun.


	5. A Surprise

**Chapter 5: A Surprise**

"Again Milady," Father said shaking his head, "Again Milord?"

Duncan suppressed the urge to smile. He could hear the frustration in his father's voice, frustration born of being forced to once again revisit a matter he had thought settled long ago.

The throne room was full this afternoon, the torchlight reflecting off a sea of nobles clad in maroon, green, gold, and dark blue. Even the balconies above were packed. Word of the inquisition's partial withdrawal from the capital had reached many ears it seemed. Now many had come, hoping to take advantage of the situation, to see what profit could be gained from picking up where the holy order had left off.

Chancellor Eamon stood with the rest of the crown's advisors, his wife, the Lady Isolde behind him. The former Arl of Redcliffe had been a major part of the royal court since before Duncan was born. His daughter now served as one of the queen's ladies, and if the chancellor had his way, the Lady Rowan would one day be something more.

Duncan tried not to think about that, there was plenty of time for that, for now he wished to enjoy himself, have a chance to be free.

One day he would sit upon the throne, he had the rest of his life to be responsible. He would wear the crown, and listen to the concerns of his people, as his parents were doing now, they would hear the petitions, and decide which ones to either confirm or deny, despite how tedious it could be.

As rulers, it was expected that his parents hear all these petitions, once they had dealt with the current matter on the floor of course.

Duncan sat in a chair to his father right, only far enough back that he could see and listen without being bothered. As the crown prince, it was his place and his duty to listen and learn about the running of the kingdom. The best way to do that of course was to sit in on the court when father conducted business. Mother sat at his father's side as she often did, her hand drifting into his, offering her help and support if he needed it.

Dunk did not think that his father would need it though, not this time.

He had grown quite familiar with the matter at hand.

Lady Johain Bridger stood beside her eldest son, a boy of ten, while Lord Mulgrave and his young wife stood to their right. Both pairs refused to meet the others eyes, such was their animosity, It was to their king that they looked for judgment, as they had on and off for the last six months.

No doubt, father was likely getting sick of playing referee between them.

"The taxes we were promised were not delivered this month Your Majesty," Lady Mulgrave complained, "Lady Johain has clearly violated the agreement that was made last time we stood before you."

"Our bridge needed to undergo repair," Lady Bridger answered, "I cannot offer profits when there are none."

"And did the bridge **truly** need to be repaired, _Mother_?" Lady Mulgrave growled with no small amount of venom, "Or was this merely another attempt to deny me what is mine by right."

Dunk rolled his eyes.

Maker, he thought, the two bickered more than Portia and Eamon.

Lady Johain had been Lord Bridger's **second** wife, her husband having died of a fever several years ago. She had given him a son and heir, but that had only complicated matters. Lord Bridger's first wife had given him a daughter after dying in childbirth years earlier, that girl had married and become the Lady Mulgrave. While her father had still lived and ruled she had not sought to claim any of his holdings for her own, the Mulgraves were far from poor after all, far wealthier than Lord Bridger had been that was for sure. That state of affairs had changed with the old man's death.

Since that time, the man's daughter and widow had been arguing back and forth over the bridge that had given the Bridger family their name, and their wealth.

If the matter was left unattended, the argument would likely end in blood, so Alistair had commanded the two women to present themselves to the court, to speak their grievances.

When the matter of ownership had been settled, the argument had then turned to be about taxes. Duncan's parents had done their best to moderate the situation, even though the two women seemed determined that the crown make a decision for good and all on the matter.

Duncan glanced over at his father. The King rested his head in his right hand, while his left stayed close to mother. Throughout his reign, Alistair Theirin had done his best to play the role of conciliator when it came to his nobles. He preferred compromise to declaring someone wrong or right. Most nobles had come to realize that the only way that the king would make such a final decision was if he had been angered. Some nobles had come to see that as a bit of a game, trying to get their rivals to anger father to the point that he did make some kind of decisive ruling.

The few times that that had happened, the loser found themselves wishing they had not provoked their sovereign.

Mother did what she could. She preferred that the lords not see the royal family as easily manipulated, and they were not for the most part. She was no stranger to acting decisively, having held the throne for over a year when father had been away seeking King Maric.

The thought made Duncan frown.

He often wondered what Grandfather would have said had he gotten to see what their family had done with Ferelden. It took a long time to recover from a Blight even a short one, and from the rebellions and the fighting that had come later, but his parents had risen to the challenge, then when the Breach had opened and demons threatened the people the crown had allowed the Inquisition to do what needed to be done, and by doing so, the realm had been saved.

Lady Mulgrave and Lady Bridger continued to bicker while Duncan let his eyes wander. The bulk of the royal court had gathered today, all in their finest of finery, but so far he did not see the one man that he had hoped to see today.

 _Where is Bann Bevin_ , he thought, he was supposed to be here.

The prince's eyes narrowed.

 _He needs to be here._

Bann Bevin had been entrusted with the Grand Forest Villa when the Inquisition had chosen to leave it. The castle now belonged to the Bann of Rainesfere in all but name.

It was for him to approve of the prince and his friends visiting the castle, Duncan had sent word to him through Arl Teagan's wife after their last visit. The Bann was her younger brother after all…

If anyone could get the man to agree it would be his sister, would it not?

He fidgeted in his chair, trying not to feel slighted or angry; he would be king one day after all. It would not do to have the court look at him like he was a disappointed child.

His eyes drifted up the dais, and found the row of handmaidens standing behind his mother, awaiting their queen's orders.

He found his gaze drawn to Alindra Nightingale…

The prince smiled.

Seeing such loveliness was enough to calm even the most savage of hearts.

None could doubt the beauty of the queen's ladies. Lady Rowan with her auburn curls had a playful curious manner that always seemed to lighten the mood. Felina of Rialto, the Antivan Ambassador's daughter was passion and desire personified her dark eyes, olive skin, and daring figure enough to inspire want in any man's heart.

She noticed him watching her, and she gave him a lazy smile, and a wink, to show that his gaze had not passed unheeded. He looked away quickly afraid that he might blush.

Alindra stood to the right of them all, her bearing regal, despite the circumstances of her birth. She kept her expression bland yet guarded, trying to blend into the crowd as she often did, not that she did that easily no…

The girl, any girl, with such an ethereal look, never failed to turn heads. Her long white hair fell past her shoulders. The streak of fiery red that ran through it was wound gently into a small braid today looping back up through the cascade of white. Her pink lips stood out against her pale skin, her mouth always seeming to be just on the verge of a smile, a smile that when it bloomed to life made even the bravest of men weak in the knees. Her court gown was lavender, highlighted with dark blue, blue that matched eyes, eyes so deep and soulful, that one could drown in them if they stared too long into them.

Alindra wore no gold; she often said that she found the color prideful and vulgar. A simple silver chain adorned her lovely neck, a single blue stone nestled just above her heart. Though slight in stature, no one would say that Alindra was a child. Gone was the impish little girl that had tended his father at council. Her figure was that of a young woman, a young woman that had grown more and more beautiful as the years had gone on.

Duncan smiled.

No one would doubt that the lovely Alindra was fit for a king, a king, or a crown prince.

Hers was a beauty that he had noticed long before he had ever discovered that he desired girls. She had been about three when they had first met. He had honored her with a kiss on the cheek when she had first been presented to her parents. She had responded by saying 'Eeeyu' and shoving him down. Her mother had been mortified, but to Dunk, even at such a young age, it had been worth it.

He had continued to watch he over the years, watch as his play friend grew into something more. As a child she had always bested he and Anthony in their little games. Racing, archery, swimming, it did not matter; the girl had proven herself more than equal to stand with the royal family.

When she had been taken to Wycome, he had been enraged by the insult, even though he was still a boy, he had wanted to go, to join the search for her. Father had denied it of course. Alindra's mother had been told what had happened, the king assured his son.

Leliana has the strength of the Inquisition at her back, son," his father reminded him.

If anyone can find Alindra, it will be her mother.

She had succeeded of course, and Alindra had returned to them, not the little girl that had left, but a young woman her beauty truly flowering for all to see.

Seeing her there, it made his mouth grow dry. In the last year or so, he had had some…interesting dreams about Alindra, dreams that one did not confess in polite company. Even thinking about them now made his heart beat faster; he shifted slightly, not wishing to anyone to see any signs of arousal.

He longed to get the girl alone. He wanted to speak his heart, to woo her. The Chancellor would say that Alindra was no fit consort for a young prince, especially not the crown prince. She…

" _ **I WILL HEAR NO MORE OF THESE LIES!"**_

Lady Bridger snapped him out of any honeyed daydreams he might have enjoyed. The prince found himself back in the royal court.

On the throne, the king rolled his eyes.

"My lords and Ladies," he said with no small amount of exasperation.

"Please."

"You see, Your Majesty," Lady Mulgrave growled, "You see. This old harridan is as guilty as sin. The crown should move to take my father's holdings and present them to his rightful heir."

"House Bridger will never allow that," the older woman snarled defiantly, "I will not allow you to take what is my son's by right. You will…"

The woman paused mid-sentence, the entire court fell silent.

All eyes were suddenly on the dais where the king and his family sat, the throne room had gone silent.

You could have heard a pin drop.

"The prince," someone muttered, others took up those words in hushed tones.

"The prince."

"The prince."

"The prince."

Dunk suddenly felt very self-conscious wondering if he had done something wrong. That is when he noticed one of the tapestries moving behind him, the one that shielded the door to the king's apartment from view.

That is when Duncan realized that no one was talking about him. He was after all, not the only prince in Ferelden.

All thought of Alindra and Bann Bevin, and his trip down south vanished. All eyes were drawn to the slender figure moving behind the throne, some one that no one at court had seen in quite some time. Even the king glanced over his shoulder.

Anthony moved with almost painful slowness. Suddenly realizing that he had attracted unwanted attention, the young boy almost fled back through the king's door. Yet something stopped him, he shifted uncomfortably and made his way for the seat next to Dunk, the one where he had sat in back before he had first went into self-imposed seclusion.

For many on the royal court, this was the first time that any of them had seen Anthony since that business with the Venatori. Pale skinned, and dressed in black from head to heel, Dunk's little brother might have been going to a funeral rather than a day in court.

He managed to find his seat, keeping his head down, not wishing to attract anymore undo attention.

Dunk could not help but smile.

This was the first time since…well since that horrible night that his brother had dared step out in public.

Surely this was a good thing…

…surely.

"Hey Tony," he said with reassuring smile.

"Brother," Anthony said looking down at his hands and feet, anywhere but up, anywhere besides at all the people that were now looking at him.

Queen Allegra cleared her throat, and called the court back to order. The court herald banged his staff against the stone floor, reminding the nobles that they were not here to stare at the broken prince.

Once again sound returned to throne room.

The business of ruling the kingdom resumed.


	6. A Lost Friend

**Chapter 6: A Lost Friend**

Alindra's eyes widened as the young prince took his seat next to his brother. Crown Prince Duncan smiled and said something to him, something that Alin was too far away to hear.

A welcome perhaps or maybe a friendly jibe, Dunk was famous for those, and once he had delighted at seeing his brother smirk at some remark or the other.

Anthony kept his head down, he did not even look over at her, did not even acknowledge that she was here.

Her lips pursed.

 _Poor Anthony,_ she thought.

 _What did those bastards do to you?_

Her first real memory of court had been the feel of Anthony's fingers wrapping around hers. He had been around five years old at the time.

The capital had been so strange, so huge and beautiful. The fact that mother would be leaving her here, had been frightening. The King scooping her up and hugging her to him had helped, but it was not until she was safe among the royal children that she finally found her voice again, though she still had felt out of place, her in her sack cloth dress and furs, the princes in their fine silk garments, garments that were so beautiful, but would have not lasted a single winter in Haven.

Then younger boy had smiled at her, a shy gentle smile.

"I'm Tony," he murmured, "What's your name."

"Alin," she had said shyly.

He took his hand in hers.

"You safe here Alin," he promised.

"We will take care of you."

The memory made her smile.

It was a promise the boy had kept.

Anthony had been so full of life, so happy, and eager to meet the world. He had been the first to greet her when she had returned from Skyhold, and had often accompanied her at royal functions. As crown prince, Duncan had been expected to walk with the daughters of visiting royals or dignitaries. They had often spent evenings laughing and joking at poor Dunk's predicament. Of course, that had before, before the Venatori had breached the palace. After that, the kind young prince she had known was gone.

What was left, now sat next to Duncan, refusing to lift his eyes from the floor.

Seeing him like this, all clad in black, afraid to meet the eye of anyone.

The sight cut her deep.

After the incident, she had tried several times to see him, but the king and Anthony's healers had forbidden it.

The young prince is indisposed, Milady," they always said.

"You will be informed when that changes."

Each rebuff had only made her more determined. She was blood of the Nightingale after all, daughter of the Hero of Ferelden, the Stormbreaker.

Alim Stormbreaker would not have let some bent shouldered gray beards keep him from what he wanted.

She had tried to sneak passed the guards, but had been caught both times, after that her room had been moved to one more befitting one of the Queen's ladies, befitting and far away from Anthony.

It had been intolerable.

She had even gone to the queen once, asking her for the chance to speak with her old friend.

The queen had smiled sadly.

"It is good that my son has such a good friend," she said, "Alas he rarely even sees me, he…he…"

Queen Allegra shook her head.

"We must have faith in the healers," she informed her young charge.

"They will bring Anthony back to us."

Alas that had never happened.

Anthony remained a ghost, a shadow that haunted the palace...

…A shadow that had not even tried to venture out of his quarters…until now.

" **That** is the broken prince," she had heard Felina remark to Rowan.

Rowan gave their friend and dirty look, and gestured for her to be silent.

The Antivan girl pouted slightly and regarded Anthony again, a hint of a sly smile played across her lips.

"He does not look that broken to me," she murmured.

Alindra looked up again.

In this at least, Felina was not wrong.

Anthony had grown some since he had first gone into seclusion. He had always been more slender than Dunk, but that had not meant that he was weak or sickly, far from it. Even at twelve he had shown signs of the warrior he would grow into, or would have before everything that had happened.

Anthony's long dark red hair hid his eyes, or would have had he raised his gaze from the floor. He was as tall as his brother now, perhaps a little taller; his shoulders broad, the black shirt he wore did not hide the muscles of his arms.

Duncan was built like a Mabari some said, powerful and fierce. Anthony reminded her a bit of a panther, sleek with a quiet power, a power that was just beneath the surface.

Her mouth suddenly felt a little dry, though she was not sure why.

She swallowed.

Felina was right.

Anthony did not look broken, in fact, he looked good.

The court herald banged his staff against the stone floor, returning the court business.

Alindra looked down and away.

Anthony was her friend.

He did not deserve to be stared at like some mummer's show.

The court returned to normal, as the Herald presented the next lord to address their king.

"Bann Bevin of Rainesfere," he called out, "Brother in law to Arl Teagan of Redcliffe."

The Bann stepped forward.

Ser Bevin looked like any other noble Alin had ever seen, though the truth was from that. Once upon a time, Bann Bevin had been a commoner living in the village of Redcliffe. According to legend his mother had been taken by the undead that assaulted Redcliffe during the Blight... The future Bann had taken up his father's sword, intent on avenging her, but the Hero of Ferelden had stopped him.

It was said that Alim Surana had been impressed by the boy's courage and the future Bann with him. Bevin had offered his father's sword as payment if the warden would take up the quest and avenge his family, the same sword that Bevin now wore on his hip.

It was said that the sword had saved the elf's life when they cleared the castle of undead. A grateful Alim Surana had offered Ser Bevin and his sister enough coin to escape the fighting and make a new life for them. The sister would grow to be a successful businesswoman in Denerim, one of the architects of the city's rebirth after the Blight. Later when the girl married Arl Teagan, the Stormbreaker had presented the boy with the sword, a fitting gift for a young noble.

The last part she knew to be true, the rest she could not say. Mother smiled slightly when she heard it, and, in private, her father had joked with Ser Bevin about hunting undead in a closet.

The knight had blushed, but said nothing more.

Whatever his origin, Ser Bevin had become a loyal lord, and warrior of the realm. He had fought with distinction during the Crowned Mabari Rebellion and against the Red Templars and Venatori that had sought to bring Ferelden to its knees for their foul master Corypheus.

Yet all was not well for the young Bann. He had been wed twice and widowed both times. His first bride and been a warrior maid that had died in battle with Vickon the Vicious, the false prince. The second had died trying to birth the Bann's first child, a boy that had not long outlived his mother.

Since that time, Bann Bevin had rededicated himself to matter of war and state. He continued to hunt the surviving Venatori, Red Templars, and Crowned Mabari men that had turned outlaw in the aftermath of the wars.

"You Majesties," The Bann said with a deep bow to his sovereigns.

He glanced over at the two princes.

"My lords," he added.

He once again regarded the king.

"I am proud to report, your Majesty," he began, "That the area around Redcliffe is once again firmly in Ferelden control. The Inquisition has left without incident, and we have resumed command."

Several of the royal court applauded. None at court would openly question the honor of the Inquisition, especially after everything the holy order had done for Ferelden. Still, there had been more than a few lords and ladies that had feared that the Inquisition would annex Redcliffe and Hinterlands as part of a new empire. Inquisitor Trevelyan had more than enough soldiers to do just that, and with so many soldiers lost during the various rebellions and civil wars that had raged through Ferelden and Orlais, neither government would have been able to do much to stop the Inquisition if that was the path they chose.

It was yet another reason that many hoped that the Inquisition would either accept new restrictions or disbanded within the year.

The war was won. The Inquisition had done what it set out to do, but now that work was done.

Now it was time for the various kingdoms of Thedas to rebuild, at least that is how the lords saw things.

Alindra was not so sure. Her mother was not entirely pleased with the nobles sniping at the Inquisition. She felt that there was still much more that needed to be done, and it was said that she was not alone. Natalya Song, the Inquisitor's half-sister had spoken openly about the Qunari, warning of a possible threat from them.

Most nobles thought it an attempt at a power grab, but Alin was not so sure.

She had faith in her mother and her instincts. If she and Lady Song were in agreement, perhaps it would be wise to listen.

Yet, the lords did not see it. Corypheus was dead, and his armies scattered. The Scions of Justice in the Free Marches equally so, their numbers were now scattered, imprisoned or dead.

The Inquisition had served its purpose, now it was time for it to step down.

The call for the inquisition to fade away grew louder every year. Now it had grown so loud that even King Alistair was forced to listen.

Right or wrong, that was simply the way the world was going.

"Happy news indeed, your lordship," the king said acknowledging Ser Bevin's report, "I take it that the Grand Forest Villa is among the holdings you have reclaimed?"

"It is Your Majesty," he said, "The Inquisition was most kind to leave it in such a grand state. Any lord or dignitary would be most comfortable there."

Behind the throne Dunk smiled broadly. The King looked over and smiled at his first born before returning his attention to Bann Bevin.

Anthony continued to look away, but from the tilt of his head it was clear that he was listening.

"That is most excellent news," the king said, he looked over at his wife, who nodded.

"We will need to speak with you after we have concluded for the day, Your Lordship," The King informed the Bann.

"The crown may have a task for you."

It was not hard to guess what task that was, not if you knew Prince Duncan, and what he had been trying to arrange.

Alin glanced over at her friends. Both Rowan and Felina looked almost ready to squeal with delight.

It seemed that Dunk's birthday getaway was going to happen.

She looked up at Duncan who was smiling at them. When their eyes met he mouthed the word 'Success.'

She smiled and nodded, happy to see her old friend so happy. She…

She once again looked at Anthony.

He was looking up.

He was looking straight at her.

For the briefest of movements her heart caught in her throat.

The eyes that looked out from beneath those dark red bangs were so sad, so mournful; it was enough to break someone's heart.

Yet…yet she thought she saw something more, a flicker of something that years of guilt had not extinguished.

She smiled slightly and dipped in a small curtsey.

For the briefest of moments, their young prince's mouth twitched upward, not a smile, never that, but as close to one that had likely passed his lips in almost two years.

When court ended she had tried to go to him, to speak with him for the first time in almost two years. Alas that was not to be.

Anthony had vanished back into the royal apartments before anyone could stop him. Even the Queen looked vexed by that.

Clearly she would have liked to have spoken to her son; it must have been disappointing, but still…

Alin smiled.

The fact that he had been here…

…Clearly that had to be a good sign.

The young prince had taken the first step.

Now they had to make sure that he continued to do so.

Alindra was ready.

Anthony was her friend.

She wanted help.


	7. Fun

**Chapter 7: Fun**

" **TO WINE AND WENCHES!"**

It was a toast that was taken up by every man in the tavern, a raucous war cry for the night to come. From the highest of the highborn, to the lowest hedge knight, the crowd that had gathered in the _Gnawed Noble_ Tavern all took up the call.

Prince Duncan could not help but smile.

What else was a night out with friends for?

The crown prince had arrived with several of his fellows. Young men all, who would be joining him for his trip down south, other invites would be going out today, friends that the young prince had not seen in a long time. Of his circle of friends, the two that were currently with him were the ones that he enjoyed the company of the most. Tessio, the Antivan ambassador's son, who trouble seemed to follow like a shadow, and Lionel Ambrose, also known as Lionel the Small, a new edition, but still fun to revel with, different as night and day, the two had risen quickly to become two of his most stalwart companions.

It is hard to believe that he would likely have tried to kill Lionel less than a year ago.

As they drank ale and spoke of noble things, life continued around them. Serving girls darted expertly between the crush of knights and men at arms, while several bards played a merry tune, their music blared in the background. Most of the men here were Ferelden soldiers, but there were some that still wore the markings of the Inquisition. The holy order had not completely disbanded after all; order was slow to come even after six years of fighting and struggle.

Any war or conflict seemed far away on a night like this, with wine flowing from casks, and fair young maids giggling as they drew the attention of man a potential suitor.

Duncan leaned back in his chair, a cold brown ale in hand. He had first come in here two years ago in the company of the Elven Knight. Ser Adwyn was as welcome as any other Ferelden-born fighting man, but even here…occasionally, it became necessary to remind some guest who he was, and what he could do, if provoked.

Duncan had seen that only once, and if anything, it confirmed his decision to squire for the legendary warrior.

Ser Adwyn was a soldier born, regardless of whatever anyone said, or his pointed ears.

The prince scanned the crowd, looking for his teacher, but saw him not. Perhaps the Elven had retired early…

…Perhaps the Bann Shianni required his… _service_ this eve.

In the absence of his teacher, his eyes turned once again to his two friends. Tessio, handsome, dark haired and olive skinned had a young blonde girl on his lap, regaling her with tales of his recent adventure along the Stormcoast. Tess had travelled with a company of soldiers to clean out a nest of Red Templar survivors that had been harassing the fishing village that had sprang up along the coast. No longer the threat they had been under the Venatori, the crystal encrusted monsters remained a thorn in the side of his father's rule. The Fereldans were doing everything in their power to be rid of the creatures once and for all. Duncan would have preferred to have joined such a hunt himself, but Ser Adwyn's duties had kept them in the capital while Tessio, almost two years Duncan's senior had been allowed to fight along with the rest of the men.

The thought made the young prince frown.

Tessio's blade had finally been bloodied, he was a fighting man for all to see, and the pretty maids seemed to be able to almost smell it. Nothing was more attractive to a fair maid then a knight tempered and bloodied. It was no wonder that the young ladies were drawn to him, flocking around him, he was a man grown now.

Compared to that, Dunk felt more like a child.

"Leo, my friend," Tessio said in his thick Antivan accent.

Lionel Ambrose, Leo to his friends, looked up at the older boy. Leo shared the same features as his sister, the same blonde hair and blue eyes, but unlike Jocelyn, whose eyes seemed to shine with innocence, Leo's always seemed to have a mischievous glint to them.

"Yeah Tess?" he answered.

The girl on Tessio's lap giggled and whispered into his ear, making the Antivan smile.

"This young lady is curious," he said, "She has a question if you do not mind?"

"Not at all," the Marcher boy responded.

Tessio grinned.

"Well, she was wondering why you are called Lionel the Small? It is not something….um…"

The girl laughed into Tessio's shoulder.

Duncan looked away, waiting for the blow up to come. Leo did have a temper, Dunk had seen it. Surprisingly the explosion never came, though Leo might have blushed slightly.

He gave the Antivan and the girl his most saucy grin.

"My father is Lionel the Grand," he informed the Antivan's pretty friend, "One of the greatest knights in Wycome. The deeds he has done for our city will never be forgotten."

The boy smiled.

"The name has nothing to do with…size."

The blonde haired boy chuckled.

"If the young lady wishes evidence on that point, I would be more than happy to oblige."

The girl's smirk grew.

Tessio chuckled.

"I do not believe that will be necessary Leo," he said.

"A shame," the boy responded.

Dunk rolled his eyes.

He could not quite believe what he had just heard. Then again, his friends' respected homes were far less…restricted than Ferelden.

He should not have been surprised of how open they were about…certain matters.

He was a bit envious, truth be told, he would not have had the stones to speak that way around a girl.

Not yet anyway.

To be honest, women made him a little nervous. He was not ill to look at, any mirror would reveal that. However her still was not comfortable.

He had asked Ser Adwyn about it once. He probably could have gone to his father, but he feared his questions might reach his mother's ears.

That would have been a little mortifying.

The elf suggested that he go to his father with this, but Dunk had pushed him on it anyway.

In the end, the elf had submitted and answered him.

 _Your destiny will draw young women to you, Little Prince_ , the Elven Knight had assured him, _but even then you must ask yourself, is it me that the girl is taking to her breast, or the crown I will one day wear._

Ser Adwyn's words stung, but Dunk was smart enough to see the truth in them.

"What must I do then, Ser?" He had inquired.

The elf had chuckled at that.

"Men have been asking _**that**_ question for ages, lad," he said with a smile, "All I can advise, is talk to them, get comfortable with it, and above all, get to know the girl first. Do not go diving into a sea of lust just because a girl has a pretty face and a comely form. Find someone you can talk to, that you enjoy being with as much in public as between the sheets."

The comment made the boy blush, but the elven knight continued.

"You _**are**_ the crown prince, lad. There will be women in your life, perhaps many women. It is up to you to decide how they will be treated. You can have a friend and loving partner, or many playthings, but never both at the same time."

Dunk had tried to take those words to heart. He wanted someone to settle down with, eventually. It would be nice to have someone to share his life as mother did with father.

That was the endgame, but that was still some years off.

There would be time for that, but first…

First…

Why should he not sow some wild oats?

Not that that was easy of course, first he needed to be able to talk to a girl, and right now that was proving to be as difficult as slaying an Archdemon.

An Archdemon would be easier; all an Archdemon could only kill you. A girl could rip your heart out, and leave you a whimpering sack on the floor.

He did not wish to end up that way.

Leo took a deep pull of ale and looked around the tavern. Most of those here tonight were soldiers, dignitaries or merchants.

The recently knighted squire frowned.

"It is a shame that Alin could not come out tonight with us," he said conversationally.

Leo shook his head.

"I had hoped to get a chance to speak with her."

Dunk's eyes narrowed, his mouth fell into a grim line, a grim line he hid behind his tankard of ale.

He liked Lionel, respected him, but that did not mean he had forgotten what had happened with Alindra.

No, he had not forgotten that at all.

It had happen almost a year ago now. After spending several weeks visiting her mother at Skyhold, Alindra had vanished on the trip back. She had gone to bed in her tent one eve, and in the morning she was no longer there. The guards search for almost a day before sending word back to Denerim. King Alistair had been furious when he found out, the guards who had supposed to have been watching Alin had not realized that she was gone until the following morning, by then the girl could have been anywhere. Word had been sent back to her mother in Skyhold while the king's men had continued the search, a search that had been for naught.

…And all because of Lionel the Small.

Lionel had been squiring for his older brother Allyn, the two had only just left Skyhold as sell, when Alin caught Leo's eye. In a show of bravado, or stupidity, depending on who you asked, Leo had snatched the girl out of her tent and brought her back to his brother. Ser Allyn had been furious, but had had little choice but to go along with his brother's play. If the older Ambrose had simply returned Alin, Leo would likely have been punished severely. Not wishing to subject his brother to that, the two had fled with Alin, taking her back to Wycome with them, and that is where she stayed for almost six months, a guest of House Ambrose, while Lionel the Grand tried to figure out how to end what his son had done without having any blood spilled. When Lady Leliana did finally find her daughter, a peace was brokered between the Ferelden and House Ambrose, by the Inquisitor himself.

Whether it was he or Lady Leliana herself who had prevented any bloodshed none could say.

Alin had returned to Denerim with Leo and Jocelyn in tow, since that time, both had become welcome guests of the royal court. Jocelyn was now one of Queen Allegra's ladies, and Lionel was now Alindra's sworn shield.

Though it was clear from the way he spoke about her, Lionel the Small wished that she be more.

Leo had been smitten with Alin since he had first seen her back in Skyhold. So smitten that he had taken her away without any thought of the consequences, he had hoped that after she had gotten to know him, that she would have consented to become his bride.

It was madness, most definitely, but a madness that Dunk could understand, and more importantly his father.

When Lady Leliana had come for her daughter, the Ambroses had released her without a word, though it was clear that Lionel still harbored some hope that Alindra would eventually accept him, and return with him to Wycome as his wife one day. So far Alindra had said nothing about this; though it was clear she had grown fond of the Ambroses and their son.

Too fond…perhaps, the prince thought angrily.

"My mother needed Alin for some errand," he said trying to hide any hint of the protectiveness he was feeling, "That and she had something to finish for her tutor. She did send her regards however."

Leo smiled; that Alindra was thinking of him had appeased his ego, at least for now.

"Plenty of tempting young ladies already here, friend Leo," Tessio reminded him, "No point in denying them our charms, is there?"

The other boy nodded, and raised his hand, trying to get one of the serving girl's attention.

Dunk smiled to himself.

Tess was right, there were many young ladies here, but there was only one Alindra…

…and Alindra was the one he wanted.

Ser Adwyn's words came back to him, about finding someone who could be both a friend and partner.

Alin could be that for him, he was sure.

Duncan had not been with a woman yet. When he finally was, he wanted that woman to be Alin. Even If they parted eventually, he wanted his first time to be with her. She was so beautiful and sweet. She...

"Dunk?"

He blinked.

Had Leo been talking to him?

He shook his head.

"Yeah Leo?"

"Please tell me that this trip down south is not going to be men only?"

Duncan chuckled.

"Of course not," he promised, "The girls need to get away from the capital as much as we do."

Both Tess and Leo grinned when they heard that. Dunk did not blame them.

The thought of it had him grinning too.

"Are you going to be inviting anyone else?" Leo asked.

"Well the three of us are going. I've asked Anthony to, he needs to get out of the palace more than any of us, I suspect. Saemus and Robb should be coming as well."

"Saemus is acceptable," Tessio agreed, "Not so sure about Robb."

Lionel cackled at that.

"You just don't like watching him drool all over your sister," he said.

Duncan chuckled.

Tess should not be too hard on their friend.

A lot of people were drooling over Felina these days.

Even if they had not, it would still be wise to invite Robb and Saemus. It was time that the northern families started getting along again; getting their sons talking was the first logical step.

Saemus Cousland and Robb Howe had been neighbors all their lives. It was time for them to become friends.

Duncan grinned at his two friends.

"This is going to be great boys, two weeks free of the capital, and only Ser Bevin to watch over us."

"And the royal guards as well," Leo reminded him.

"Of course," Dunk said, "them too."

The girl on Tess's lap giggled as he lifted a dagger off the table he rolled it expertly over his knuckles, impressing her with his skill and dexterity.

"Should we be expecting any trouble on this trip," he asked, his voice was conversational, but it was clear that he was legitimately curious.

"I don't think so," Dunk shrugged, "The inquisition has dealt with anyone who might cause problems. The Red Templars and Venatori are gone. The outlaws that haunted the Hinterlands have been hunted to extinction, and the Crowned Mabari and the rest of Maric the Younger's maggots have been gone for almost ten years.

Dunk smiled.

"The only thing that we are going to have to worry about boys is having too much fun."

His friends smiled. Tessio's girl giggled again.

Dunk almost nodded.

 **This** was going to be great _**fun!**_


	8. Before you go

**Chapter 8: Before you go**

"I do not need to remind you of what is expected of you both," The Queen said in a motherly voice, "You are both blood of Calenhad and Pentaghast. Your father and I expect you both to remember that and act as such."

Duncan nodded and did his best to hide his excited grin. After what felt like an eternity of preparation, finally the journey south was about to begin. Invitations had been sent to Robb and Saemus, and Ser Bevin had sent word to the Villa for it to be prepared for visitors. The royal party would spend two weeks there, hunting and hawking, celebrating the prince's fifteenth birthday.

It would be a party of special magnificence, an event that none of them would ever forget, or at least it would, once they had gotten away from the capital.

He had tried not to run when his parents had sent for him. Anthony had met him enroute to their parents' chambers. As always his little brother was clad all in black, his eyes almost hidden by his long dark hair.

Dunk tried not to stare at Anthony. He was grateful that he had decided to join them. Once upon a time his little brother would have shared in his excitement at this trip; it would have been as hard to contain their mutual glee. They likely would have both been running to their parents' rooms, eager to get this adventure started. But now…now…

Dunk had shaken his head.

He had not been there when the Venatori caught his brother and his escort, but he had seen the aftermath, a hall stained with blood and bodies. Father holding Anthony to his breast, trying to get him to stop screaming, though perhaps screaming was not the right word…

Wailing…yes, the word wailing was far more appropriate.

That was the moment that Dunk had lost his little brother.

Maybe this will help, he thought, getting out of the capital, away from the palace and the memories; maybe that will be the first step in bringing Anthony back to some semblance of his old self. It was yet another reason that he was eager to get started.

Dunk wanted his brother back.

Perhaps…this journey would be the first step.

He was eager to get started, but recognized that it would not do to appear overly eager in his parents' presence. They may have been the king and queen, but that did not mean that they did not think like other mothers and fathers.

They shared the same concern for their children that any parent did, Dunk understood it, even if it felt like he was being coddled some times.

"We are trusting you to behave like the young gentlemen you have been raised to be," Queen Allegra continued, "Remember who you are."

"Yes Mother," Duncan and Anthony said in unison.

"Have fun," King Alistair added.

"But not **too** much fun," the Queen chimed in.

Again Duncan resisted the urge to laugh. He was hearing what his parents were saying.

He would not disgrace their name.

Again he glanced over at his brother. Anthony's expression remained neutral. Was he excited to be getting away? Was he eager to spend some time with his friends? Duncan could not say.

Anthony was as unreadable as some book written in a foreign language.

This trip will help, the crowned prince thought.

It has too.

"We are sending a cage of birds with you," their father said, bringing Dunk back to what they were doing, "Bevin is not sure if the Inquisition left any behind when they vacated the villa, if you have any trouble, do not hesitate to send a message to Redcliffe. Teagan is there, should any problems arise."

"Yes father," the boys said.

Duncan liked Ser Bevin. He may have been one of his parents' vassals, but he was still young enough to know what it was like to be Duncan's age.

The Bann would not interfere in their revels; at least, Duncan did not think that he would.

"Do not hesitate to turn to Bevin if you need something," Queen Allegra said, "He will not hovering over you, but, as chaperone, he is there if anything starts to turn sour."

"Yes Mother," the boys said again in unison.

Mother glanced up at their father.

"Is there anything else love?" she asked.

The King shrugged.

"Behave like gentlemen, don't embarrass the crown, and obey Bevin, I think we covered everything dear."

He smiled at his sons.

"Other than that, try to have fun."

"But not too much fun," The queen added with a smile of her own. She rose before them and held up her arms.

"Now, come and kiss your mother goodbye," she said.

Despite it just being them, Dunk still glanced around; making sure that no guards or servants heard that last part. None would blame a mother seeking a hug from her son, but that did not mean that the crowned prince wanted anyone else but his family to see it.

Queen Allegra laughed lightly, likely realizing what he was doing. Yet Duncan still went to her embrace. He laid his head on his mother's shoulder.

"Farewell mother," he murmured.

"Farewell my darling boy," she said, "Have fun. Be safe."

Dunk nodded and kissed her on the cheek as he stepped away.

Father also embraced him, though it was a shorter embrace than what he had shared with his mother. Unlike the queen, King Alistair knew how to respect what he called "man feelings"

No boy wanted to share a mushy embrace with his old man.

Anthony, as always kept his distance. When mother motioned for him to approach he stepped only close enough for her finger tips to touch his arms. Since the incident, he had not liked to be touched by anyone, perhaps it was because the guards had had to restrain him after father had used his Templar abilities to free Anthony from the blood mages' spells.

Whatever the reason, his little brother chose to keep his distance.

If it pained her, the queen chose not to show it, she simply gave Anthony a sad smile.

"Be safe," she murmured.

"I shall mother," the broken prince said.

"Look after your brother," she said.

Anthony nodded.

Dunk resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Anthony could not even look at a sword since the incident, if anything came up…

Well…it wouldn't. Bevin had assured the king and queen of their safety.

And besides what could happen?

The wars were all but over.

Surely, by now, the danger had passed.

Surely, it was all in the past.

IOI

In her own room, Alindra finished packing her small travelling chest. As she closed it and set the lock she paused briefly to try and think if she had forgotten anything.

Her friend would likely say that she had forgotten quite a bit. Once again reminding her that she was not behaving like a typical Fereldan noble, Alin could not help that last part. Her mother had always stressed the value of traveling light, not burdening herself with possessions. Her father, what with all his wanderings shared that value. It was not surprising they had passed such conservative views on to their daughter.

Her friends having born into the royal court did not have that limitation.

Felina had said something about bringing five chests on this journey. Rowan had said she was bringing at least three. The party was to have three wagons available for luggage, but that did not mean that they needed to bring their whole lives with them.

Alin had rolled her eyes when she seen those chests.

"You both realize that we are going to be at the villa for two week?" she had said.

Felina had laughed at that.

"Trust me, my friend," she said, "the boys will thank me later for everything in these chests."

She had smiled at her two friends.

"You both might wish to share in what is in these boxes, they might prove…interesting."

Both Rowan and Alindra had glanced at each other.

Neither of them wanted to even imagine what the Antivan girl might consider "interesting."

The night before last Rowan had been summoned by her parents, likely to say farewell, but also to give the girl instructions on what was expected of her.

Chancellor Eamon and Lady Isolde loved their daughter deeply, but that did not mean that they had no ambitions for her.

Alin was not one to pry, and did not play the politics of the court, which is probably why Rowan had come to her yesterday.

Sometimes a person just needed someone to talk to.

"My mother was at it again," Rowan sighed, "'This is your moment dear,' she said, 'the time that you finally show Duncan who you truly are.'"

Alindra had smiled.

"I thought you did want to catch Duncan's eye?" she had asked.

"I do," Rowan said, "But…my…my mother…she…she…"

Rowan growled and stomped her foot.

"She doesn't even like the king," the girl complained, "If Dunk wasn't the crown prince she would not like him either. Sometimes I think she only wants me to succeed because my brother never got a chance to."

Rowan shook her head.

"Connor died before I was born, yet…it still feels like I can't escape his shadow."

Alindra said nothing.

She knew who Rowan's brother had been, all of Ferelden knew. Connor Guerein had been only a boy when the Blight began. After Chancellor Eamon had been poisoned by his enemies, Connor, a mage child, had turned to a desire demon to try and save him. What had come about because of their deal still haunted the residence of Redcliffe village.

Alin shuddered.

Her parents did not like telling war stories, but that did not mean that she had not heard what happened.

Her father had been given an impossible choice. To end the evil in Redcliffe, to save the people, he had had to destroy the abomination that the chancellor's son had become. Had he not done it, the Templar order likely would have, but that did not mean that the act had not haunted her father, that it did not continue to haunt him even after all these years.

Alindra said nothing of this to Rowan.

"Try to be yourself," she advised the Chancellor's daughter, "Duncan will respond to that more than some mindless flirtation.

"You think so?" Rowan had asked.

Alindra had smiled.

"Dunk's not shallow; he will see your value."

Rowan chuckled.

"What," Alindra asked.

The other girl smiled.

"I wish my noble parents were like yours Alin. They sound much less demanding then mine."

Alindra pursed her lips, wondering for about the hundredth time if she should share more about her history.

Perhaps it was time, Rowan was a good friend, and …

Suddenly she saw an image of her mother's disapproving face; that stopped her cold.

It was better that she said nothing, mother would have advised.

Better safe than sorry.

Who her parents were was not common knowledge. It had been safer that way. When asked about her, the king and queen simply said that her parents were friends of the realm, nobles who had had little to offer their Ferelden allies but their daughter. A daughter that they hoped would find a better life in Denerim.

Alin did nothing to dispute that story.

Duncan and Anthony knew, but they had kept her secret as well. They had hidden her from Natalya Song, the Inquisition's agent when she had first come to Denerim. The woman had been interested in Alindra's father.

The queen thought it best that she stay hidden, she did not want the woman pestering the girl.

Thinking about the Inquisition brought up more thoughts of her mother. The Inquisition's Nightingale remained a shadow over much of Thedas. The order's power might have been waning, but that did not mean that her agents had fallen back. In fact Alindra was quite sure that her mother's birds were still singing their songs back to Skyhold or the chantry, wherever her lady mother was currently staying.

The thought made Alindra pause, ever so briefly.

What would her mother say about this trip south? Would she have given her blessing, or would she say her daughter was being foolish to leave the protection of the capital?

Alindra could not be sure.

Now as she stood before her chest, ready to strike out on this new adventure, Alindra Nightingale could not help but smile.

Her mother had always said that she needed to find a life for herself, a life of wealth and comfort. She did not wish her only child to grow up as she had. She had always said that Alin deserved better.

How could Alindra find that life if she did not take a chance once and a while?

She was still smiling as she rang a small bell on the side of her bed, summoning a servant. He would help her get her chest down to the wagons. Then it would be off to the Grand Forest Villa.

The future of Ferelden was going south for some revels.

She would need to be among them.

If her future was waiting, it would be found there.

She would not hide from it; her parents would not want that.

They had found their place in the world.

Now.

Now.

It was time for her to find hers.


	9. The Road

**Chapter 9: The Road**

It was no small party that accompanied the young princes out of the capital. One hundred men at arms followed Duncan and Anthony on their journey. Thirty of these soldiers had served for years as part of the palace guard, the best of the best, trained by Ser Corlys Kelley himself. The rest were either Bann Bevin's or free riders in the employ of the families of the other young nobles, safety was key with so many of the next generation of Ferelden leaders following the prince to celebrate his birthday.

The pageantry of it was both flattering and exciting to the crown prince.

For almost two days now they had been on the road, and so far, the trip had been as pleasant as a sunny summer day.

Ser Bevin led the column, it was he that held command, and would stay as such once they arrived at the grand forest villa. Many of these men would stay behind after the prince and his party left, taking charge of the small castle that the Inquisition was leaving behind.

Dunk and his friends rode in the middle of the column, shielded by their many blades. The other young lordlings chattered excitedly over what was going to be happening once they reached their destination.

Robb and Saemus were to meet up with them soon, accompanied by their own servants and bodyguards. It might have seemed like a lot of steel to waste during peacetime, but the king and queen were taking no chances.

Duncan was heir to the throne, and his friends were all the offspring of many important personages.

They needed to be kept safe.

Anthony kept to himself during the journey. He said little and stayed close to their father's guards. Twice Duncan had tried to tempt him up to join the rest of them near the front of the precision, yet his younger brother had refused both times. He was content to stay close to their guardians; he had no interest in their conversations or in the games that the young nobles played to keep themselves entertained as they made their way down the road.

His reaction was disheartening to his older brother. He had hoped getting out of the capital would be just what his brother needed to emerge from the melancholy that held him so tightly in its grip.

So far, that was not the case.

Leo and Tessio ignored him for the most part, telling stories of their mutual homelands and the adventures they had had. Hearing what his friends had done and where they had been made Dunk feel more than a little self-conscious. His friends were so worldly, and he had spent so much time in the capital…

…It made him feel like he was a child in the company of young men.

 _You have nothing to be ashamed of,_ his conscience chided, _you are the Elven Knight's squire. Perhaps you have not tasted true battle yet, but that does not mean that you are not ready for it._

The thought soothed him, mostly.

 _Be patient,_ he thought to himself.

 _Your time will come._

He _would_ win his spurs eventually. In the meantime, he was here to enjoy himself not worry about what was to come. His friends, not to mention the young ladies that had joined them, had not come to see him brood. This journey was about finding release, finding pleasure.

Dunk smiled.

He intended to do just that.

Speaking of the ladies, most of them had chosen to ride in the wheel house that Duncan's parents took when travelling on long voyage; the great carriage served them all better than using several transports that could slow their progress even more. The Prince was pleased that his parents had consented to this, if he was to be king one day, there was no reason why he should not begin winning courtly favor by looking favorably on the daughters of the realm.

Of course, not all the ladies chose to make use of his parents' generosity.

Alin and Jocelyn had both preferred to ride their own horses. The young lady of House Ambrose had insisted that it had been too long since she had sat a horse, and looked forward to a spirited ride through the country. Alindra claimed that she would ride to keep the other girl company, though Dunk suspected that there was more to it than that.

He recognized that, sometimes, Alindra did not seem at ease among the rest of her mother's ladies. Perhaps it was the fact that she was not truly noble born, or perhaps the values her parents had imparted on her during her early years made her…hesitant to accept that she was deserving of such luxury.

Whatever her reason, he was determined to show her that she was worthy. Even in a suit of lavender colored riding clothes, she looked far nobler than half the young ladies that had been born of his father's lords.

The prince shuddered.

Looking at her now, it filled him with a sense of longing, a nervous excitement and arousal that he dare not mention. He would show her just how special she was, and that she was worthy of the highest of the highborn's attention.

Once she accepted that, once she accepted him.

She would know just how deeply she was cared for.

For now he let his eyes return to the road, and to the conversations of his friends. Tessio mentioned a rumor he had heard. It was said that a witch lived not far from the Forest Villa, a mage that had refused to accept the Inquisition's aid or protection.

Antivan boy grinned.

"Perhaps we can seek this mage out," he said, "See if she is up to no good."

Duncan frowned at that suggestion.

One of the first lessons he had learned at his father's knee was not to go looking for trouble with mages. Most people born with magical talent only desired to live their lives and be left in peace. The Templars of a decade ago refused to acknowledge that, and that failure had resulted in a war that had almost torn all of Thedas apart.

The prince was not about to make the same mistake. If there was a witch living near the villa, than the Inquisition had clearly not considered her a threat, and chosen not to act. He would trust their wisdom on the matter. He was coming out here to enjoy himself, not make an enemy.

There were plenty of enemies in this world.

He had no desire to make any more.

The precession paused briefly when they saw a rider approaching. Ser Bevin called them to a halt while he and five of his men rode out to meet the newcomer. It took only a few moments for the Bann to confer with the man and bring him back to the rest of the group.

The Lord smiled as he addressed the prince.

Saemus and Robb send their regards," Lord Bevin informed him, they will join us by nightfall."

Duncan nodded.

It would be good to see his northern friends again.

"Is it just Robb and Saemus then, My Lord," Tessio inquired. "I had hoped that they might bring more friends to help celebrate such a joyous occasion."

Leo chuckled.

"Hoping to sweep some northern girl off her feet Tess?" he said.

The Antivan grinned.

"There is nothing wrong with the desire to be surrounded by beauty, is there?"

Bevin smiled slightly.

"We have received word that Lady Oriana will be joining us. She has just returned from abroad and it is eager for an opportunity to share in revelry."

Duncan only just managed to keep his jaw from hitting the ground.

 _Oriana was coming_ _ **too?**_

The prince shook his head.

 _Andraste have mercy._

Tessio looked at his royal friend.

"I have never heard of this Lady Oriana," he said, "Is she new to court?"

Dunk sighed.

"She doesn't like court life very much," he informed his friend.

 _As far as he knew, she did not like much of anything._

Oriana was only a few years older than him, yet she was already seen as a well-travelled highly skilled young woman. She had been raised in Highever by Teyrn Cousland, and had spent a great deal of time accompanying him on his journeys abroad. She had aided him much as he gathered funds to help with the Blight recovery effort, and during her travels had developed both a love and skill with knife and dagger, though she chose to keep her physical skills to herself, words served her well in dealing with those she disagreed with. It was said that she was well known at the court of both Orlais and Nevarra, both for her beauty and her extremely sharp tongue.

It was said that men who met her called her _the Dragoness_ , that to speak with her even for a moment was to invite being burned.

Oriana knew the power of both words and blades. Both could cut, he knew for a fact, he had felt her words a few times during visits to Highever.

The girl was never one to mince words.

Officially, Oriana was the distant cousin of Fergus Cousland's late first wife, and that he had taken her to foster as a means of assurance that the Couslands were still loyal to their Antivan cousins, despite the loss of all blood ties between them. That story was what was told when those in power asked about the young lady.

Unofficially…well…that was another matter entirely.

Alindra and Jocelyn rode up beside them, her head tilted slightly with curiosity.

"What is going on?" she inquired.

"Robb and Saemus are on their way," he told her, "Apparently…Oriana's coming too."

Alin's eyes lit up, her smile brightened Dunk's mood, despite the news of their newest arrival.

"I have not seen Oriana in forever," she said happily, "It has been far too long."

For her sake, Duncan smiled. Alin had always liked Oriana.

He wished he shared her opinion of the other girl.

"I will go tell Anthony," she said turning her horse, "Maybe it will cheer him up."

The two girls rode back leaving the boys and Ser Bevin alone.

Dunk shook his head.

Alindra was likely the only person that Oriana would not roast on sight. Dunk was not sure why exactly, but he thought it might have something to do with their parents. Though she was supposedly Antivan, Oriana really did not look the part. She was pale skinned with blonde hair and sharp green eyes, her smirk was a slash of red across her face, and it was rare that she accepted a compliment.

When speaking of the Dragoness' origin, some hinted at an Elven warrior maid that Fergus Cousland had fought beside during the Blight. The girl was said to have been the cousin of Bann Shianni, and rumored to have returned with the Teyrn to Highever after the Battle of Denerim.

Dunk had never met her himself, but gossip suggested that she had been more than the Teyrn's friend and ally. Rumor said that the two had become lovers, and that the Teyrn had gotten the girl with child sometime before the Blight had ended. The child would eventually grow up into the Dragoness that had roasted so many young lords in the last few years.

True or not, the rumors remained. No one dared ask Teryn Cousland about it, and if they had, they would likely have been very unhappy that they had. So life had gone on, and the Teyrn had continued his support for his young protégé. If the Teyrn's wife had been concerned she had never shown it. If the girl was her husband's child, she had been born before their marriage, and as long as she did nothing to threaten Saemus's rights, no one said anything about the Teyrn and the Dragoness.

If the rumor was true, that might explain why Alindra was safe from a good tongue lashing. Both were children of Heroes of the Blight. Of course, technically, he was as well, not that that saved him from Oriana.

He snorted with amusement.

If Tess and Leo thought Oriana coming was a pleasant surprise, he would not ruin it.

They would learn soon enough.

The road was long until they reached their destination…

…Plenty of time to recover from any burns.


	10. The Shadow

**Chapter 10: The Shadow**

The Princes' camp was far more festive than one might have expected, and nowhere near as rustic. As Crown Prince Duncan had a reputation to uphold, and to give his lords and ladies what they expected. When the heir of Ferelden travelled, he should travel in style, with many pleasures to keep him, and his fellow highborn, occupied. As they made their way towards the Forest Vila others came to join their party. They had picked up several more free riders as they made their way south, among them several mummers, singers, and entertainers. Word of the princes' journey had clearly been spread beyond the walls of the capital, and with most royal journeys, there were those that saw opportunity.

Alindra smiled as she made her way through the camp. It might have been mistaken for a travelling circus, if not for all the guards. She watched as a young musician serenaded Felina and Rowan. Both seemed entranced by the brown haired singer. The boy was handsome; make no mistake, and both the girl's seemed flattered by his attention. A few feet away Tessio and Lionel were engaged in some drinking game with one of their bodyguards. Alin did not recognize the man but immediately felt sorry for him.

When it came to Antivans and Wycomers, it was best not to challenge them to a battle of cups, given the celebratory skills of both peoples; any native Fereldan was bound to lose. She thought of warning the man, but eventually decided against it.

Who was she to interfere with another's fun?

Near the royal tent, Duncan sat speaking quietly with Bann Bevin. She could not hear what was being said over the din, but from the relaxed posture of both, it was clear that what was being discussed was far from serious.

Both of them noticed her, she smiled and offered a curtsey. Bevin nodded and raised his cup, while Dunk looked away, she could not tell by the firelight, but she thought he might be blushing slightly.

His reaction made her tummy flutter, though not for the reason that the prince might have hoped for.

Since her return from Wycome, she had become more and more aware of the change in her relationship with the crown prince. What had begun as a childhood friendship had begun to evolve, at least as far as the Prince was concerned. It was not as bad as the two young men at the tourney, but…

Alindra frowned.

The royal court was a competition, she had been a part of it long enough to understand that, the only thing that changed were the prizes that the various people and factions competed for. As she had grown older, Alindra had quickly come to understand that she was seen by some as just one of those prizes.

It was not a state of affairs that pleased her.

Her mother and father had sent her to the court so that she could have the best life possible. They had trusted Alistair and Allegra to see that she had all the best opportunities. Mother would no doubt prefer that she find some handsome young lord settle down in his keep and have his babies. She had no desire to see her daughter live the life that she had led. The Nightingale loved her, Alin did not doubt that, but her life had turned her very harsh and cold.

She would have spared her daughter that fate.

She could not have all that her parents wanted for her without first getting the attention of some young lord. Duncan's attention was flattering, but that did not mean that it was desired. They were friends, she hoped that they always would be, but that was all. What he wanted, what he might _desire_ …that was not…it was _**not**_ possible.

One day Duncan would ascend to the Ferelden throne. He would need a queen at his side, one that would give him children, and please the royal court. She knew at least half a dozen young maidens who were far more…appropriate candidates. Rowan was a clear choice. Jocelyn could bring great wealth to Ferelden's coffers. Felina was something of a dark horse, but any relationship between her and Duncan could yield better ties between Ferelden and Antiva, that was not something that should be discounted so easily.

Queen Allegra's marriage to King Alistair had served to bring Nevarra and Ferelden closer together; a triple alliance with Antiva would only make their kingdom stronger in the long run.

Compare her three friends to herself, and there was no contest. Alin might have been the daughter of heroes, but she was also an elf blooded human with a grey warden mage father and a bastard turned bard mother, no matter how high her family had risen, it would always come back that. Right now, few if any were looking into her history, if Duncan took her for his woman, no one would be able to stop the questions about her past and in the end, and it would all come out.

That would not be good for anyone, especially not Dunk.

She retreated from the royal tent, losing herself in the sea of people that had joined their noble precession.

She glanced around hoping to hear or see any sign of their northern friends' arrival. It would be good to Robb and Saemus again, and Oriana was always pleasant company, more to the point, she had more in common with the blond from Highever than she had with anyone else here.

Oriana would understand what she was going through; she might even have some advice for her. She knew that most people called her the Dragoness, but that did not mean that she did not speak truth, blunt truth perhaps, but still truth.

Oriana was far more wise than most people gave her credit for.

So deep in thought she had not realized just how far she had come, she had left young lords and ladies behind, and found herself among the soldiers and free riders that formed the protective ring of steel around them. A few of the soldiers looked up as she passed, she did not blame them. Her pales skin, hair, and large blue eyes often drew attention, and had since she had been a small child.

Several of the guards that new her kept the newcomers away, the officers reminding them all of their duty, a duty they needed to perform should they wish to be more than simple guards and Free Riders. Serving the crown well on this journey might lead to greater rewards later on.

Only a complete and utter fool would not realize that.

The soldiers were polite for the most part; everyone seemed to be getting along, the only conflict she observed was an argument between one of the palace guards and one of their baggage handlers. The guard was berating the man for leave some of the wine casks behind. The handler took the tongue lashing without even an attempt to defend himself.

The confrontation was more…confusing than anything else.

The wine cart that they travelled with was still fairly well loaded. Their party was in no danger of running out.

What was one more cask of wine? Certainly not worth a royal guard's time.

The man stormed away, saying that he needed to send a bird ahead of them, let their people at the Grand Forest Villa know that there was a change in plans. The man was so intent on this he did not even notice Alin as he passed. She jumped out of the way as the guard left still cursing under his breath.

Something ticked at the back of Alindra's mind, a thought that died before it was truly born.

She was about to turn around and head back to the others when she noticed a familiar figure apart from the rest of their group; a shadow among many other shadows, a shadow clad in fine black silk.

She made her way towards it, towards him.

It had been a long time since she had been able to speak to Anthony.

She did not intend for it to be any longer.

IOI

She was not sure if he had heard her approach. Alin had no desire to frighten her old friend.

The thought almost made her smile.

Frighten? Unlikely, she thought to herself. Anthony Theirin was not easily frightened, and he had more than enough skills to defend himself, or rather…he had…

Any pleasure she might have felt faded away.

Before the…incident with the Venatori, Anthony had been seen as a child of destiny, a young man with a future. Duncan would be King Duncan one day, few doubted that. For fifteen years he had been preparing for just that. When the time came, the crown would fit him better than his clothes. Everything that King Alistair and Queen Allegra had done to prepare him for his future would pay off.

Duncan would be a good king.

Anthony's future had been something different, but no less grand. After his performance at the junior's tourney years ago, none had doubted his skill with a blade. The palace's master of arms confirmed what most people thought. Ser Corlys Kelley was respected throughout Ferelden in matters of arms, if he said the boy was one of the best he had ever seen, people believed him.

Duncan would be king. Anthony would be his Lord Commander, his first and most loyal sword. Master Kelly firmly expected the boy to rise to the rank of General one day, a commander of commanders. One day it would be Anthony that the would-be invaders of Ferelden would fear. He would be the shield that kept their rivals at bay, and the sword that punished them if they dared try and harm the realm.

That is how it should have been, but two years ago, the few surviving Venatori had snatched that destiny away, and in its place they had left a broken young man.

Anthony the Unlucky.

The Broken Prince.

Even while on the round he stood apart from the others, preferring to keep everyone at a distance. Long dark red hair hid most of his features, his black tunic breeches, and leather vest made him appear more shadow than person. While the other young men in their party laughed and caroused at the head of the column, Anthony stayed back, close the baggage train.

He stood facing away from her now, staring up into darkened sky, the light from the camp hid most of the stars, yet the prince seemed completely engrossed.

While Dunk and the others had chosen to leave the capital both armed and armored in leather or light breast plates, Anthony had chosen neither. He wore no armor, and wore no sword; he did not even carry a dagger, at least as far as Alin could see.

He had rebuffed any attempt to speak to him by his fellows, responding only to their defenders in a soft spoken voice, and then only with enough words to show that he had understood what they wanted.

When he moved it was with an almost painful shyness. It was as if he feared harming the merest blade of grass.

The sight shocked her, almost as much as his appearance in the throne room when this trip was first discussed.

Alindra had grown up with Anthony Theirin, but now, she almost did not recognize him.

"Hello, Alin."

She nearly jumped.

She had not been aware that he had been aware of her.

She stifled a nervous giggle.

What a great fool she was.

"Hello, Anthony," she said curtseying. When he did not respond she realized that she would likely have to take the next step.

She had come this far, she had no intention of letting it pass. She would not simply slink back to camp with her tail between her legs.

She had wanted to speak with her friend, and that is what she was going to do.

"May I approach?" she asked.

He tilted his head slightly, perhaps considering what that might mean, but finally, he nodded.

Alindra stepped forward, yet as she came close enough to touch the boy, he seemed to take two steps back, just out of range of her grasp.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said, finally slightly hurt.

"I know," he said softly.

"Then why do you back away?"

He remained silent, either he had not heard or simply chose not to answer.

She figured the latter.

Some ladies might have considered that an insult and retreated back to their fellows. Alindra did not give up so easily. She stayed right where she was, waiting…

If her lady mother had taught her anything, it was patience.

She could wait just as long as Anthony could.

She could endure silence as well as anyone.

They stood together, or as together as anyone could be with Anthony. The wall he put up between himself and others was as strong as any Ferelden holdfast.

She would see that wall breached if she could. She hoped that her simply being here would be enough; perhaps she was wrong, perhaps…

"I'm glad you came back," he said, "I heard you were fostered in Wycome for a time."

She laughed at that.

"I would not call it "fostered" exactly, but it wasn't all bad. Jocelyn was good company, and Lionel wouldn't let anything happen to me. That was good, at least."

"Hm," the prince said, whether he was agreeing with her or disagreeing she could not say.

She could have let the conversation end at that, but she didn't. Anthony had opened the door; she did not intend to let it close between them.

"I've tried to speak with you since I've been back. No one would let me see you."

The Broken Prince sighed.

"It is better this way," he said.

"Better?"

"Yes."

"For whom?"

Anthony blinked, he looked away from her, for the briefest of seconds, she though that he was going to burst into tears, but after another shuddering breath, he looked up again, his face cool and empty.

"For everyone." He said.

The look in his eyes almost made her take a step back. She…she…

She shook her head.

Oh Maker.

Anthony's expression might have been neutral, but his eyes were anything, but. They burned with a quite fire, and inferno starved for air in a stone room, a flame that would leap out and consume if one was not careful.

The look surprised her.

Even unarmed, Anthony had seemed at that moment to be a threat. It had been almost two years since the incident, but something of what had happened clearly remained. Something dark, something untamed, remained behind the prince's eyes.

What happens when that gets out? She wondered.

There were those that court that pitied Anthony. Had they seen that look in his eyes, they would not have felt pity; they would have felt something else.

Fear.

He took another shuddering breath and returned his attention to the horizon. She had feared that he had gone away, that he would not respond if she spoke to him again.

He once again surprised her.

"It is better for everyone if I keep may distance," he murmured, "I'm not afraid of being hurt Alin."

When he looked up again, his expression looked pained, lost.

"I'm afraid of hurting someone else."

The admission took her by surprise. As far as she knew Anthony had not looked at a weapon since the Venatori.

How he could still see himself as dangerous?

He looked away again, but she thought that he had not wanted too; perhaps he desired to be a part of his family and friends again. Perhaps he had simply forgotten how.

She wanted to show him that it was not too late. There was always a way back.

"Robb and Saemus are on their way," she told him, "Oriana's coming too."

She smiled.

"You want to come and see how she deals with Tessio and Lionel?"

The Prince pursed his lips.

"Has no one warned them about Oriana?"

"Nope."

There was the briefest twitch of the prince's lips, not a smile, but it might have become one if he let it.

"Too bad," he admitted, "It is never pleasant when the Dragoness breathes fire."

Alin giggled.

Again Anthony's mouth twitched, not a smile, but close.

He sighed and shook his head.

"You will have to come back and let me know how it went."

She gave him an arched look.

"You do not wish to come?"

The prince nodded.

"Better this way," he said flatly.

Again Alindra was not quite sure how to respond.

The wall was still there, but at least she knew that her old friend was willing to peek over the walls once and a while.

It was hopeful after such a long time cut off from him.

She turned and made her way back toward the camp.

"If you change your mind," she reminded him, "You know where we will be?"

Anthony nodded curtly, more interested in the horizon than meeting with their old friends.

She started to leave. It was not a defeat, she thought, merely a setback. She was not willing to give up.

Anthony was her friend.

She would not leave him trapped in darkness.

"Alin," he called out.

She paused.

"Yes?"

When she looked back she saw that he was looking back at her. His eyes radiating all the hurt and loneliness of the last two years, the fire that she had seen was still there, but it had lessened to embers.

His mouth twitched again.

"I'm…glad you decided to come." He said.

Despite herself, Alin blushed slightly, her pale cheeks turning a soft pink in the low light. She doubted that he could see it, which was probably for the best.

"Thank you Andy," she said.

He nodded curtly.

"You're welcome," said as he turned back to the night sky.

She stood there watching him, just a single black figure in the night, one shadow among many.

Yet from the light of the camp behind them, the shadow that the Broken Prince cast was longer and darker than any other.

In that moment, the broken prince stood taller than any king.

A shadow as great as the destiny that had been stolen from him…

…Stolen, but not forgotten.


	11. A Coming Storm

**Chapter 11: A Coming Storm**

"The rains are finally letting up, My Prince."

Duncan snorted with a mixture of both annoyance and amusement. The soldier's report was something that he could clearly see for himself, after the driving rain from the night before and then through much of the morning, it was clear as day that the downpour had finally slowed to a drizzle.

Good enough, he thought.

Now, we can finally get back on the road.

Rain showers were quite normal in Ferelden this time of year. Made even more so since the Blight had ended. The darkspawn had left their mark upon Ferelden, summers turned hotter, and winters both colder and crueler. Though the country continued on the long road to recovery, nothing could change the fact that the Archdemon's servants had left their mark.

It was the lot of all of Ferelden to deal with it.

The rains had begun the morning after their northern friends had arrive, begun, and had continued for the rest of their journey, slowing their progress. What should have taken two days took four. From blinding downpours to drizzles, the weather haunted the prince's party as they made the final push towards their destination.

Duncan gave the soldier the order to pack up the camp. They were only a two day's journey from The Grand Forest villa, provided that the weather held, and he was eager to finally dry out after sleeping in a wet tent the last few nights. The latest stop had only been for two days. They probably could have made it to Redcliffe Castle, but several small streams had flooded turning the road into a swampy mess. Not the kind of place to bring heavy wagons through, not if you wanted them to arrive safely.

The prince turned and made his way to the main tent, where all his friends and guests were waiting. He was eager to give them all the good news; they would be underway again shortly. Most of the party would be grateful, though he would likely suffer a burn or two from Oriana, someone he had been avoiding for the last few days.

Dunk shook his head.

He had still not totally forgiven her for what happened yesterday.

He found the rest of his companions in the large tent that served as a makeshift dining hall. Everyone was eating porridge and fruit as he made his announcement.

They were finally ready to get back underway.

"Finally," Oriana exclaimed, the dragoness' smile was one of amusement and dry humor, "If we had waited any longer I feared that we might need boats to make it to the villa."

Duncan smiled slightly, though he still could not bring himself to meet Felina's gaze. The Antivan girl seemed to enjoy his discomfort, but he found little amusement in any of it.

He hoped to work through the awkwardness when they reached their destination.

 _Thanks Oriana,_ he thought.

 _Thanks so bloody much._

He had been worried that Tessio would blame him for what had happened, that Dunk had sought to dishonor his sister. Surprisingly, the young Antivan seemed apathetic about the whole thing. Perhaps he realized that Duncan had not requested the girl's presence, or more likely, that he simply knew his sister.

The Prince slid in between Tessio and Leo, grateful that none of them had brought up what had happened. Perhaps they knew it had not been his choice. His friends seemed more interested in conversing with Saemus Cousland and Robb Howe neither was well known in the capital, but would one day wield power that could not be denied.

Any smart noble would do well to draw them into their circles, and if Tess and Leo had proven anything, it was that they were not stupid.

Saemus smiled at him, passing a full mug of ale to his prince. The heir of House Cousland could not be more like his father if he tried. The same auburn hair and strong jaw, even his eyes reflected the wisdom and strength of his sire. Born of Fergus Cousland and his second wife, not a man or woman in the north questioned that the future of Highever and the Cousland family was in good hands.

"What you said about this journey, my prince," he said jovially, glancing around at the rest of their party, particularly at the comely young maidens who had joined them. Saemus was said to be a young man that loved all of life's pleasures, and was not one to say no to any of them. It was a weakness, yes, perhaps his only one.

He grinned broadly at his prince.

"You did not disappoint."

"What is the point of getting away from home if you do not seek out all the pleasures you can find," Dunk replied.

"I don't know about you Saemus, but I need this. If I'm to settle down and prepare to take my father's throne one day. I want to have no regrets when that time comes."

Robb Howe, who sat next to Saemus, shrugged.

"My uncle would say that regret is as much a part of life as joy and sadness."

Duncan paused, he was not sure how best to respond to that.

The heir of House Cousland had no such problem.

He laughed.

"Yeah," Saemus chuckled, "That does sound like something your uncle would say."

Robb shrugged again. Clearly he was not as comfortable in such noble company as the rest of their party.

That was not surprising considering his history.

There were many on the royal court that felt that the Howes had no place among the nobility. The actions of the boy's grandfather over a decade and a half earlier and soured many people on the acceptance of the Howe family line. Some looked at Robb as an up-jumped merchant's son, and that the first chance he got he would turn into something far worse than his grandfather. Rendon Howe's depravity was well known, and remembered, the entire family line might have gone extinct if not for the actions of Robb's Uncle, and his mother the Lady Delilah.

Tall, pale skinned with dark hair and eyes, Robb was the spitting image of his Howe ancestors. He favored his mother greatly in his looks, with only his chin and nose marking him as different from his predecessors. Delilah had fled her father, taking shelter in the arms of an Amaranthine merchant. It was yet another strike against the young Howe, even though he had been raised to lord after his actions at his uncle's side.

Robb had been a squire to the warden Nathaniel Howe since he was eight, learning lance, sword, and bow from the warden hero. Though Nathaniel himself had been a skilled hunter, he had been training in the knightly arts, arts he had passed onto his nephew. The two of them had saved Teyrn Cousland's life a few years back. It was for that act of heroism that the boy had risen, and finally had a chance to redeem his family name.

It would not be easy, Duncan thought, but as the elven knight often said, nothing worth doing ever is.

"Are you still serving at Vigil's Keep Robb?" he asked.

The other boy nodded.

"It is as good a place as any to meet with merchant and farmers," he replied, "My holdings are small, but there is potential. We actually grew enough food that we did not need the Vigil's aid last winter."

The young man smiled.

"It is not much, but it is a start. My people don't trust me yet, not that I blame them.

"I **will** give them reason to trust the name Howe again."

Saemus chuckled.

"I thought your uncle already did that?"

Robb shrugged.

Nathaniel Howe's actions were well known.

There was no reason to repeat them.

"How is he doing by the way, your uncle?" Dunk inquired. "He has not been seen at court in quite some time."

Robb shook his head.

"He is slipping I'm afraid. He…he has not been the same since he returned from Adamant fortress. Even before that maybe…the loss of his wife. My Aunt…her… her…her disappearance in the deep road hit him very hard."

Dunk nodded. He remembered Nathaniel and his wife, the woman had been…prickly at best, but she had clearly come to hold Robb in high regard.

Robb sighed and waved his hand dismissively.

"Enough of such sad talk," he said, "We are here to celebrate, are we not?"

"That is what I'm certainly here for," Felina called out, grinning at the both.

Dunk and Robb both blushed and bowed their heads.

Robb had been attracted to the Antivan since they had met. Dunk was…well…things had been made a bit more awkward in the last few days.

Dunk prayed to Andraste that his blush did not show too badly.

Damn that girl!

Alindra rose from her place beside Jocelyn and left without a word. She did not even excuse herself or say where she was going. She rushed out of the tent, not even looking at him.

Duncan feared that he had angered her, but…surely she could not blame him! What happened with Felina…that wasn't his fault.

That wasn't fair!

He glanced down the table towards his brother. Anthony had not moved, slowly, almost mechanically he continued to break his fast.

The sight disturbed Duncan almost as much of Alin leaving.

He had hoped bringing his brother along might snap him out of this…malaise he had been trapped in.

So far, no such luck.

The prince sighed.

 _Yet, another thing that had gone wrong today._

He shook his head and sided.

It wasn't my fault.

It wasn't.

IOI

Alin took a deep breath of cool morning air, the damp ground giving gently underfoot as she made her way across the camp.

She closed her eyes and took another breath, trying to calm herself.

Alas, it did not work.

Her small hands curled into fists.

Part of her wanted to hit something; it might make her feel better. Yet, that was not her way; her mother had always wished a different path for her, a gentler one.

Sometimes…Alin resented that.

Both of her parents were fighters, yet they did not wish that path for their daughter, they had prepared her to protect herself if she needed to, but beyond that, she was not as skilled as they were.

She could have asked one of the soldiers for the use of a bow, she was nowhere near as skilled as her mother, but she found shooting shafts at an archery butte sometimes made her feel better.

She glanced around the camp the morning mist still clung to the world as the sun struggled to peak through the rain clouds.

The sight was beautiful, inspiring really.

If she could not engage in violence, perhaps a bit of the artistic would do.

Alindra found a dry spot near one of the supply wagons; she drew her small sketch book from a pouch in her cloak.

Anger could be good, her mother had taught her that, it was passion, and passion could be turned into inspiration, when you were inspired you could create.

Alin decided to try that right now.

She drew a small piece of coal from another pocket in her cloak; she flipped quickly through the book finding a blank page. She glanced up again with her large blue eyes.

Such a morning might have inspired her mother to create some tale or song that was her mother's outlet or at least it had been before she became a spymaster for the Divine and later the Inquisition. Alindra was not the type to come up with exciting stories, and she thought her singing voice was more frog-like than nightingale, but drawing…

Yes, Alindra knew how to draw.

She worked quickly, sketching the camp as the morning sun rose. Her hand was steady, her eyes drinking in every minor detail.

The work would be rushed, but that did not mean that it did not serve her purpose. It was a form of release, one she had indulged in many times.

Her room back in the capital was full of various drawings. Both the king and the queen had commented on her talent, praise that she had accepted, yet mattered little.

She did not draw for praise, she drew to express herself. She…

"Why am I not surprised?"

Alindra sighed.

She looked up. Oriana stood before her, a look of amusement on her pretty face.

Alin resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

She really did not need this right now.

"I remember a time when you fingers were almost permanently stained black with coal dust," the other girl said.

She smiled.

"I guess I should not be surprised that you would fall back on your old hobbies.

Alindra frowned.

This was **not** a hobby, she wanted to exclaim. Yet, she held her tongue; she did not feel like getting lashed by Oriana right now.

Alindra looked up at her…well they were still friends, Oriana was just a friend she was not really happy with right now.

"You're still not angry with me about that business with the Antivan girl are you?"

Alin glared at her.

"Shouldn't I be?"

"Maybe," Oriana said with a shrug and settled down beside her. Looking at her friend, she found it hard to see that they had anything in common. Alin had been born both pale and petite, clearly of elven blood, while Oriana was the picture of what a noble girl should have been. Fine of features, with long blonde hair and a sharp green eye, Oriana was a paragon of noble beauty. It was hard to imagine that she was elf-blooded, even though Alin knew it to be true.

It was rare that an elf blooded human inherited no elven traits, but it did happen.

Alin shook her head.

"I wish you would have left me out of your little game with Duncan," she told her friend.

Oriana smirked.

"I wasn't playing a game with the prince," she replied, "I was playing it with your Antivan friend. You just got in the way, sorry."

Alin frowned.

Got in the way, that was one way of putting it.

One of the most mortifying experiences in her life was another.

Since her brief conversation with Anthony, she had endeavored to trap him into another, with little in the way of success. Yesterday evening she had decided to seek out Duncan, and ask for his help in the matter. She had asked Oriana if she had seen their crown prince. Her friend had directed her to his tent.

That had been a mistake.

Duncan had not been there, arriving only moments after she had peaked inside the tent.

They had both been shocked by what they had found there.

Felina had snuck in while the guards had not been looking. She had been waiting to give their prince an early birthday gift of sorts.

She had been undressed in his bedroll, awaiting his arrival, hoping for a more… _private_ audience.

She and Dunk had both retreated with cries of surprise, soon the whole camp knew. Felina was amused. Alin was mortified. Dunk was embarrassed, and Rowan was not talking to any of them.

Oriana…well…she had been laughing too hard to say anything else.

Alindra was not pleased.

"I thought we were friends?"

"We are darling," Oriana said.

Certainly doesn't feel like it."

Oriana sighed.

"I'm sorry, okay. I should not have involved you. When I prevented our little prince from having a…interesting evening with your Antivan friend, I should have simply gone to one the guards and had her removed."

Alin gave her an arched look.

"Why would you even care?" she asked.

"Why would you?" Oriana replied.

Alin blinked.

"Duncan's my friend. We grew up together."

"Is that the only reason?"

"Do I need another?"

"Probably not," Oriana shrugged, "Still…maybe I needed to hear it."

Alindra's brow furrowed.

"Why?" she asked.

Her friend sighed.

"I wanted to make sure that you were not just another hen competing before the royal cock. Duncan has many young maidens flitting about him. I was hoping that you had not joined the race to our crown prince's bed."

Alin sighed.

"That is one place that I would not be welcomed," she said.

"It would not be the first time a girl tried to increase her station by seeking out the attentions of a prince."

Alindra knew that Oriana was not wrong, but still resented her assumption. She had no designs on being anything more than a lady in the King's Court, and a friend to the royal children, and besides.

The girl frowned.

If her experience in Wycome taught her anything, it was that her heart sometimes pointed in the wrong direction. Duncan was her friend.

She had no desire to repeat the same mistake.

"Why do you care who the prince shares his bed with?" she asked Oriana.

"I don't," her friend answered.

"Then why ask me? What was the point of coming on this journey?"

"Because I'm not simply here to have fun," she admitted, "My father is very concerned what had been going on lately in the capital, and considering what I've been hearing during my travels, he has a good reason to be concerned."

"Concerned," Alindra said, "Why is Teyrn Cousland so concerned?"

Oriana winced.

"You know I don't like it when people blurt out that I'm the Teyrn's daughter right? I'm sure you can understand that, given your own history."

Alin gave her a sheepish look.

"Sorry."

Oriana sighed. It had taken her a long time to find a level of acceptance between herself and her father's new wife. Though affection remained between the elven woman who had given birth to her and the Teyrn, any further relationship had been impossible. Both her mother, and Oriana had come to accept that, but that did not mean that it was easy.

Oriana lowered her voice and leaned in closer, what was to be said was to be said in confidence at least that is what Alin assumed.

"There are a lot of eyes on our dear Prince Duncan these days. He is almost of age. Who he chooses to take as…a companion will have great repercussions for the kingdom in the next few years."

Alin pursed her lips.

"I had not realized that it was that serious?"

"Believe me, it is," Oriana replied, "When Lady Allegra married King Alistair, no one thought much about it. After Cailan's difficulty with producing an heir, a lot of people thought that his brother might suffer the same affliction. Yet, the king surprised everyone with having a bountiful relationship with his wife. After that, there are plenty of people now watching our Prince very carefully. The Orlesians likely first among them, they did not intervene when King Alistair and Queen Allegra married, now, thanks to that union, ties between Ferelden and Nevarra are stronger than ever.."

What does all this have to do with me?" Alindra asked, "I'm no fitting consort to a future king."

"Does out prince know that?"

"Of course," Alin said, "At Least…I think he does."

Oriana sighed.

"I'm not sure if any of your little friends have…made Dunk a man yet, but he needs to understand that this is about more than just some mindless fling. People are watching, watching and scheming. If you are his friend, than you need to let him know, you need to make him understand."

Alin thought about what Oriana was saying. This sounded more and more like some conversation that her mother might have come up with. Perhaps she should not have been surprised. Oriana was almost as well travelled as her mother.

"Is it really that bad?"

She asked.

"If Duncan does not listen, it could be worse," Oriana admitted.

"Way…way worse."

In the distance thunder rumbled, the drizzling rain started to fall harder, even as the soldiers and servants that accompanied them continued to break up the camp.

They would be on the road again soon perhaps that was for the best. If Oriana was right, there was more going on than a simple celebration of the prince's birth. Perhaps she needed to speak with Duncan. It would not be an enjoyable conversation, but it was likely necessary.

There was a storm coming.

They would all need to prepare.


End file.
